Learning Trust
by popluvingurl
Summary: The eight friends are reunited, but Janet is back! Carlos discovers a secret that's been hidden in his home for fifteen years, Wanda wants her father's return, Ralphie gets into a tangle, and Arnold has a tough time controlling his troublesome cousin.
1. Chapter 1

Cha. 1 The Return of Janet

"I'm so-o-o excited!" Wanda cried, her brightness expressing her happiness. "Who would've believed it?! We made it to high school--all eight of us kids!"

"I never _dreamed_ of having a _future_since the first field trip we went on with Ms. Frizzle," her friend Arnold replied, awe marked in his voice. He had been the last of the boys to change his voice, but he didn't feel more important, like the rest of them did. "But look ... I, Arnold Perlstein, am walk-ing to Walkerville high, without any crutches or surgery scars!"

"Yeah, the cool thing is, all eight of us are sharing the same class," Tim added, poking a pencil over his left ear, dark eyes sparkling in his dark-skinned face.

"Are you kidding?" Ralphie Tennelli shouted, running to catch up with them, already wearing his old, beloved baseball glove, "You mean the most amazing, awesome thing _ever _happened, and that is: the Friz is back!"

His friends agreed with enthusiasm, as the four of them went along the sidewalk on a fresh, breezy, warm morning. Walkerville High was already in sight, its flag rippling in the mild, dancing breeze. Everything about the weather felt cheerful, fresh, and pleasant.

And why shouldn't it? Summer vacation might be over, but the eight friends were finally being reunited after months of separation. Well, almost. Pheobe and Keesha were coming to school from another side of town, Carlos and D.A. from yet another. But when they all sat in their seats and Ms. Frizzle whirled into the room in an unexpected way like she used to, everything would be perfect. So not even Wanda tried to stop the birds from their lusty singing, or the warm sun from shining.

Meanwhile, Ms. Frizzle disappeared into her famous costume closet to pick just the right thing to wear, as usual. A smile lit up on her face as she glanced down at Liz. "Ah, Liz, don't you just love the sound of distant voices in the halls that you love and know so well?"

Liz climbed on top of a coat rack and her green head nodded.

Ms. Frizzle was really eager to see all of her favorite students again, who, she knew, loved her as much as she loved them.

The first face that she saw, as she peeped through the slight opening of the closet was a pretty, chocolate-skinned face framed by frizzly brown hair done up in a ponytail as much as possible. It belonged to Keesha Franklin, granddaughter of Mrs. Franklin. She was a girl of facts, always wanting to know the truth about things, and mind you, every truthful detail that went with it. She wore stylish jeans, a tight purple T-shirt displaying a splash of cartoons, a thick bracelet, and possessed a determination that could run a thousand miles. She was often a leader in the group.

Following her was a girl with a light-skinned, smooth complexion, kind green eyes, silky, shoulder-length auburn hair, and a soft voice. She was wearing a yellow sweater and red pants, which surprisingly looked good together, and matched her hair color. This was Pheobe Terese, the gentle-hearted, compassionate girl who was never disliked because of her sweet nature ... though her concerns could get annoying on occasions. She had met the other seven when she was transferred to Walkerville Middle School from her old school, but she was as much part of the gang as the others were. Her parents were both working with the environment, and even her 22-year-old brother Phil was. Her best friends were Wanda and Tim.

After her came Arnold Perlstein, the somewhat nerdy, but lovable teenager with red curls and glasses, a miniature of his father. His glasses were no longer odd round ones like they had been in middle school, but small rectangular-shaped ones that matched his face, thanks to his prissy cousin Janet. He claimed that he disliked risky adventures, although he actually liked Ms. Frizzle's field trips--not that he realized that until they were over. And he always tried to make it up to his friends when he made mistakes. His friends could always count on him, and he was often seen with Pheobe and Wanda.

Next came Wanda Li Andre, a wild-spirited, little Asian girl, daughter of a news-reporting woman and sister to a troublesome, but sweet little Asian boy named William. She wore pink lots of the time, and today she wore a pink T-shirt with silver-studded blue jeans, a white belt, and little earrings--and had short, silky black hair framing her adorable little face. Over that she had a hot pink, linen casquette hat positioned at a cutie angle. She was always up to something, and lived for Ms. Frizzle's fieldtrips, being a #1 fan of adventure. She had a knack for getting into trouble, and she got frustrated with her friends if they were "weasely wimps". She always picked Arnold for her partner in any project, even though the two were as different as the day is from the night.

Following Wanda was a tan-faced, black-haired Hispanic boy named Carlos Ramone, the son of a good-natured, attractive man and woman that were popular in the society. He was a slender, growing boy with noticeable good looks. He was ever the soccer player, known to run faster than all of his friends. As usual, a smirk graced his boyish face features, and he was wearing a black-and-gray hoodie sweater, silver necklace and blue jeans. He was always the cheerful guy in the group even when things went wrong, cracking his own, often sarcastic jokes. Rarely had his friends ever seen him panicked. He was actually happy when they were baked into a pie with no way out. He was a friendly guy, and best friends with D.A. and Ralphie.

Then there was Ralphie Tennelli, a baseball fan and the son of Dr. Tennelli, his well-known mother. He rarely got to see his father, who visited only during the holidays. His very best friend was Carlos Ramone, and Keesha Franklin second to it. He was a hefty, strong boy with a slight admitting to chubbiness. His face consisted of light skin that was always colored after a hard work-out or running around the diamond. He had a lot of brown hair and dreamy brown eyes from reading too many comic books and had a wild imagination that could get the whole gang excited. He could be dramatic, and also lazy, at times. But despite the fact that he often argued with a girl, he was a good-natured guy and the gang wouldn't be whole without him.

After him came D.A., short for Dorothy Ann. She was perhaps the smartest student in the class, always going by the book like her mother. But surprisingly, the blond-haired, blue-eyed girl's best friend was Carlos. For all her wisdom and sometimes ignorant attitude to how other people felt, she was actually sensitive and somewhat proud, like Carlos was, which often led to squabbles. She loved her plaid short skirts and soft-colored turtlenecks and was forever wearing them. She also had a little sister to take care of, and despite the fact that she was a very proper, perfect, and most bright student, she had a caring side to her, and often surprised her friends by an impulse of deep affection.

And last, but not least, dark-skinned and thoughtful Tim Jamal entered the noisy classroom. He was the only son in the family, and had two older sisters. He always wore casual stuff, not actually nerdy, but didn't put much effort into looking totally cool. He had dark, round eyes that twinkled whenever an artistic thought entered his mind, which they did often. He could sketch and paint like nobody else in all of Walkerville Middle School, and he was about to find out that he was better than all the high scholars, too. Like D.A. with her research book, he was always carrying a sketchpad and a pencil, that sometimes poised over his left ear. He was good friends with the entire gang, but he was especially friendly when it came to his drawings and artwork.

Ms. Frizzle observed each excited student's entrance with a spirited anticipation to throw open the closet door and scare them with a new and interesting appearance, like she had always done for them last year. But she put a finger to her lips and Liz did the same, both of them knowing that the time to make their presence known was not yet nigh. First, she would delight in hearing the kids converse with each other again.

"Hi, Keesh!" Carlos said when he spied her. "How was summer vacation?"

"It was totally and completely awesome!" Keesha gushed, rolling her eyes for emphasis. She walked over to him and started chattering up a storm. "Grammy took me to see the coolest place on earth--to the _Intimidator 305_in Virginia! It's the biggest roller coaster I've ever seen, and I'm telling you, my _grammy _rode on it with me and survived! At first the people in authority thought she had alsymers or something to wanna ride on such a scary thing, but she wouldn't let anyone talk her out of it and although she threw up afterward, she was completely fine! I couldn't believe--"

"Oh yeah ... that's totally cool," Carlos chuckled a bit. "So your grammy had fun, huh? What about ... you?"

"Who, me?" Keesha cried, throwing her hands into the air. "It was like losing gravity and drifting on clouds of cotton candy! I'm telling you, if I hadn't worn a seat belt, I would've hurled across the room." She stopped to catch her breath. "Whew."

"Sounds like I had a better time than you," Arnold ventured, looking thoroughly petrified at the idea of going on such a scary ride. "I stayed down on firm ground with gravity holding me in place and was surrounded by relatives for nearly the whole summer."

"Ugh, I can't imagine that!" Ralphie declared. "You're a safety-freak, you know that, Arnold? I watched baseball games and ate junk food and partied all summer!" He looked completely satisfied with how he spent his summer break.

"Oh, Ralphie, how could you?" Pheobe repeated her usual concern-filled words when she thought somebody or something was being mistreated. "That may slow you down and could be bad for your health, you know."

Ralphie looked a little pissed off. "Hey, Pheobe, my mom is a doctor. Isn't that bad enough?"

"I can't believe she let you eat junk food all summer," Pheobe returned firmly, with disapproval. Then her expression lifted. "I went to see the most interesting zoo. It so incredible how all those baby animals got saved from disasters, and how kind people brought them to zoos to save their lives. Oh, and I learned to play piano." She smiled, tucking a thick lock of auburn hair behind her ear.

"Way to go, Pheebs," Carlos said brightly, leaning against the wall with folded arms. "I'll hear you sometime."

"Who has time to play piano during summer weather?" Wanda exclaimed, looking horrified. "I'm surprised at you, Pheobe!"

"I suppose you did something better?" Pheobe giggled.

"If you call going to California and getting to meet your favorite stars and attend their concerts a number of times a "wow" like I did, then word!" Wanda shouted, dancing across the room and taking a protesting Arnold with her.

"Wait a minute," Ralphie stopped her. "I thought you were going to Asia to visit your dad ... ?"

Wanda stopped dancing and she looked crestfallen all of a sudden. "Yeah, I know ... I was hoping we would. But, umm ... well, it's fine." Her face remained clouded a long time after that.

"What about you, Tim and D.A.?" Carlos asked. "What did you guys do?"

When Tim took down his pencil from his ear and his eyes began to shine, everyone knew what he was going to talk about. "We were in Hawaii for two weeks. I never dreamed there would so much scenery to put down on paper. When you guys come over, I'll show you."

The friends smiled and nodded, then turned to D.A. She looked radiant and energetic as she looked at Carlos. "I went to Europe with my aunt and saw the most magnificent, historical things ever! All the things you ever read about in history are actually out there! It was so exciting. And Ralphie, you should have tasted a European burger." She started laughing.

Ralphie looked doubtful. "I dunno ... what was in it? A load of ketchup and mustard, hiding two fatty burgers inside white bun slices?" He asked hopefully.

"Oh no--and you better not eat that stuff without any greens." D.A. pointed straight at him with her finger. "Because according to my research--"

Her book dropped to the floor when Ms. Frizzle danced out of the closet and into the classroom, looking like a human Christmas tree with her sparkly clothes, bright face and dazzling smile. "Good-morning class!"

"Ms. Frizzle!" they all shouted in unison, then replied, "Good-morning Ms. Frizzle."

Wanda was the first to run over to their teacher and flung her arms around her. "Oh, you're back again!" she squealed. D.A. silently presumed she had too much ice cream in California. "Oh, Ms. Frizzle, you're gorgeous!"

Ms. Frizzle smiled down at the excited little Asian girl endearingly. "Why. thank-you Wanda. I _feel_ gorgeous."

"What did you do during summer break, Ms. Frizzle?" Arnold asked curiously, almost fearfully.

"Oh," Ms. Frizzle began, smiling mysteriously, "this redheaded young lady--"

Just then, the door burst open and an unexpected person came into the room. Her red hair was done very fashionably, her red glasses glittered with tiny rhinestones, her atmosphere killed the fresh air with a cloud of strong perfume, and she wore a sly, superior grin that matched her superior clothes to perfection.

"Hey, everybody," she sang out in her superior voice. "Hi, Ms. Frizzle."

"Janet!" the kids exclaimed in unison.

Janet Perlstein placed her hands on her hips and looked thoroughly disgusted. "I don't like to hear my name abused by so many voices at one time, creating an ugly melody." She set her backpack down beside an empty desk next to D.A., who looked at her in bewilderment. "So," she said in a sassy tone, addressing D.A., "who's gonna get the straight A's now?" She sounded downright pleased with her interrupting presence.

"Good-morning, Janet," Ms. Frizzle said pleasantly, not looking at all surprised to see her there. "So you are joining our class this year. Hmm ... this should be interesting." She chuckled with excitement.

Carlos, Keesha, D.A, and Ralphie turned to glare at Arnold. "Arnold?" Ralphie hissed. "Is there something you forget to tell us earlier?"

Arnold flinched guiltily as his face reddened. "Uh ... yeah," he said, squirming uncomfortably. "I almost forgot."

"You completely forgot!" Wanda scolded quietly with a frown.

"Well, it's like this. Uncle James decided to stay here for another six months after summer break was over, and Janet didn't wanna do home-schooling. So ... "

"So if my dad likes it well enough, we'll just move here," Janet said airily, then sighed. "It's such a boring place. In Los Vegas, there was always exciting stuff to do, and everyone was s_o_ much more in class and style!"

"Ok, Janet, but we want peace even if you're in our class this year," Keesha told her.

Janet sighed and examined her perfectly-manicured nails. "Do I need to repeat, the people out here are so, _so_ boring!"

**Please review if you like it! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey readers! thanks for visiting my story! I realize I need to explain a few things.... #1 don't get confused by the kids having the Friz in "Middle" school instead of "Elementary"... i guess you could say she's been in their lives more often than just in elementary, according to my story. (Note: I do not own ANY of the characters) So, I made a mistake by writing that Pheobe was transferred from her old school to "Middle" school.....sorry about that!! :)**

**#2 You'll find that Wanda's character may resemble that of London Tipton's from The Suite Life Series, but I'm trying to make up my own thing, and I certainly don't wanna change Wanda's character... she's only going through a bit of a crisis... :)**

**and #3....I'm reeeeally busy these days, but I promise I'll try to post my next chapters as soon as I can! I'm not planning for this to be a simple, short story.... and I hope you enjoy it! :D I loved MSB for as long as I can remember... always have, always will! :)**

Cha. 2 A Discovery

"Boy, only a few hours since Janet's return, and she's already getting on my nerves," Ralphie complained as he came to an occupied table in the center of the cafeteria, balancing a tray on his hand. Wanda, D.A., Carlos, Tim, Pheobe, and Keesha were all there, but Arnold was missing.

Carlos seemed to be reading his thoughts. "Hey, where's Arnold?"

Pheobe looked around. "I haven't seen him since last period, and he's usually one of the first to look for us," she said mostly to herself, placing her napkin on her lap.

"Oh, who knows, he probably can't get away from his loud-mouthed cousin," Keesha decided, a bit sourly. "Why did Janet have to return into our lives? I was having such a blast, pretending she didn't _exist_."

"Looks like her kind didn't go extinct yet," Carlos said sarcastically.

"She's way too real," Ralphie agreed, stuffing a dripping french fry into his mouth. Then he turned to Keesha and positioned his baseball cap sideways on his head. "So Keesh, wanna see my collection of baseball cards sometime? I got a whole load last summer! I added six to my collection." He looked proud of the fact.

"Sure! But I bet you don't have some of _my _cards," Keesha boasted, turning her full attention to Ralphie. "Do you have ... "

"Great, now Keesh is into baseball," Wanda announced the obvious to Carlos. "Since when?"

"She's into almost any sport," he shrugged, reaching for his soda. "And gymnastics."

"Well, looks like Ralphie's got a competitor," Tim commented, looking slightly worried. "And he's always been the king of baseball ... this can't really be too good, can it?"

"Not when you're sitting in my spot," came a familiar, sassy voice. It was Janet, and she had decided to grace them with her presence at last. Arnold followed behind her, looking a bit pale.

Tim looked up at her in surprise. "Since when was this your spot?"

Janet's eyes flashed and her smile disappeared. "Since you got off of it, you dork!" She charged toward him and tipped back his chair.

"Hey!" Tim yelled, scrambling to get off.

"Janet, what's your point?" Keesha demanded. Janet's arrival had interrupted hers and Ralphie's lively conversation. Or should we say, debate.

"My point? I scored a lot higher in my back-to-school outfit than most of you," she laughed, reaching for Arnold's sleeve and jerking him down into the chair next to her. "_Right_, Arnold?"

"Uh ... if you say so ... " he stammered, looking at Pheobe in bewilderment.

Carlos smirked, slouching in his chair with folded arms. "Yeah, Janet ... you also win in being the most obnoxious around here. How many medals did you win for that kind of thing?"

"Shut up, C.R," Janet snapped, looking at him coldly. "Unless you want me to show you how to crush bones! I could win a medal in _that_." She leaned toward him threateningly. Carlos backed away, giving her a glare.

"So, Janet, if you think this place is so boring, why did you come back?" D.A. wanted to know after she took a bite out of her burger.

Janet sighed and smiled. "D.A., nothing will change the fact that I'm back. And you know, I don't _think_ it matters to you. What I do around here is to brighten things up a bit--and by the way, those plaid skirts are way out of style." She frowned.

D.A. opened her mouth, but Pheobe shushed her quickly. To argue meant to please Janet, and nobody wanted to do that. Pheobe was smart that way.

"And we had lots of fun squirting syrup on the carpet last week, didn't we, Arnold?" Janet giggled, poking his arm.

"Uh ... Janet, that was you," Arnold reminded her falteringly. "And my mom wasn't too happy when she got her shoes in it."

"Your mom!" Janet scoffed. "Arnold, be thankful you're not like her! She can't stand a bit of fun."

"I like Arnold's mom," Wanda shot back, defending her buddy. "She's really good with crafts and she's been to Asia!"

"Okay, you guys, this is no big deal!" Carlos protested, holding up his hands. "You know what, there's a lot of other things to do besides criticise around here!"

"Carlos is right for once," D.A. chimed in, looking a little fed up with the argument. "Janet, we're all friends. And you're not going to have any success in trying to ruin things out here! So can we call it a truce between us guys and you?"

"Truce," Janet grinned mischievously. "But like Carlos might say, the "truce" is not as convincing as a lie!"

Carlos's dark eyes snapped. "I wouldn't say that, and you know it."

"I don't get it," Carlos told D.A. as they walked to his home after school. "Why does Arnold put up with Janet's bullying? Remember the time she pulled him into the theater and scared him into obeying her, just to trick us?"

"Well, we did learn about light and how amazing it is," D.A. offered with a positive smile, tossing short blond hair out of her eyes. Instead of pigtails, she had gotten a stylish hair make-over last year. She had never known how fun it could be to play with hair, and Pheobe was the one to open her eyes to that.

"Okay, Dorothy Ann, I know you're being positive, but for once, just this once, don't you think it was mean?" Carlos checked the mailbox and took out its contents.

"Yeah, it was." She watched his hands move skillfully through the pile of mail, looking for something important. "And I guess it's just not Arnold to be brave and stand up for what's right. Who knows what Janet will have him do next. Remember the time we were in outer space, seeing all he planets? She worked him like a mule!" D.A. shook her head.

"Well, he obeyed her, unlike your ordinary stubborn mule," Carlos laughed a bit. "Anyway, I'm sick of Janet. I think I've seen too much of her today. I hope we have brownies," he ended, changing the subject abruptly.

"Your mom's amazing with baking stuff," D.A. said admiringly as she climbed up the porch steps. "Now I know where you got your skill from."

"Hey!" Carlos cried, looking a bit offended. "I don't bake!"

"True, but remember the time you were the leader of making a cake for Ms. Frizzle's birthday party?" D.A. smiled wisely.

"Oh, yeah," Carlos blushed slightly, scratching the back of his head. "But I also ended up inside the cake! And my mom never taught me that."

"Oh, some things just come naturally," D.A. laughed, following her buddy into the house.

"Hey, sweetie, how was school?" Mrs. Ramone smiled as the two wandered into the kitchen. "Oh, D.A.! Nice of you to come. Brownie?" She held up one of her famous little brown cakes and D.A. accepted it.

"Thank-you, Mrs. Ramone," she said politely, glancing at Carlos. He was scooping three fresh brownies off a cooling rack and piling them on the table. He flinched guiltily when his mother saw it and narrowed her eyes.

"Two will be enough, Carlos," she said, her eyes flashing good-naturally. "And yes, I want the one in your pocket, too."

The black-haired boy reluctantly took the little bulge out of his pocket and handed it over. "These things always work for Ralphie," he complained.

"Well, maybe I'm not Dr. Tennelli--maybe I'm the smart Mrs. Ramone." She tucked a bang of silky black hair behind her ear, and untied her kitchen apron. "Of course, don't tell her I said that, she'll take it badly."

Carlos flashed an untrustworthy grin.

"I mean, it, Carl."

Carlos shrugged and nodded. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm going over to Dr. Tennelli's," Mrs. Ramone admitted, blushing slightly, "to clear up something with her. I'll be back in a few hours at most."

D.A. released an accidental giggle. The attractive, black-haired woman turned her sparkly brown eyes on the girl, who quickly drank her glass of milk. "Enjoy yourselves, and behave. Tell Mikey where I went when he gets home, Carlos, and if you need anything, you know my number."

Carlos waved her off. "Got it, Mom. Don't worry, you'll only be gone a few hours, how much damage can we do?"

Mrs. Ramone's eyes narrowed again, and Carlos flinched at her steady, sharp gaze. "Uh ... we'll stay out of trouble. Count on it."

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything, Mrs. Ramone," D.A. said, sounding a lot older than she was. Carlos glared at her. He didn't like it when she teasingly pretended he was a troublemaker and she had to look out for him.

"And I'll keep D.A. out of trouble," he said quickly.

"Aw, how sweet that the two of you are looking out for each other," Mrs. Ramone smiled, but she looked doubtful as she muttered, while leaving the house, "That can't be good."

"Okay, what should we do?" D.A. asked the minute Mrs. Ramon was gone. "I'm up for something mysterious ... hideous ... supernatural ... "

"You should have picked Ralphie's house," Carlos said sarcastically, placing his and D.A.'s empty glasses in the dishwasher. "His books come alive when you read them in his living room."

"Ugh, not exactly supernatural," D.A, decided quickly, flicking a thin layer of blond hair behind her ear. "But something exciting and adventurous ... what? It's rude to stare like that." She scowled, staring back at her best friend.

"Sorry, but I just ... did you say _exciting? Adventurous?_" Carlos sputtered in amazement. "Where's the D.A. that buries herself in books and jumps on cloud nine when she discovers what causes friction between two forces?" He made a face. "I can still see that book of physics--"

"Okay, stop it already!" D.A. put up her hand. "Face it--you've changed over that last few years, too. You're actually a _little_ interested in books, too. And you're not cracking lame jokes all the time."

"Well, I read four of the most funny books I ever read last week, when our TV was turned off for a while," Carlos offered.

"That's it. I'll hear no more! Now let's go upstairs into your attic and look for something old ... and bring it back to life!" A shiver visibly quivered down D.A.'s body, and Carlos laughed when he saw it.

"Uh, we never bury our loved ones in the attic, D.A." Carlos ran a hand though his boyish-styled black hair. He fiddled with his necklace as he added, while running toward the attic door, "But there might be that dead mouse my dad trapped last month. C'mon!"

"Ew, gross!" D.A. snapped, following him up the steep steps into the attic. "That's not exactly what I meant, either. And as Pheobe would say, 'How _could_ you?'"

"Oh, the mouse was making my mom nervous, because she could hear it running above the ceiling in the night. It even gave her nightmares." Carlos stepped between boxes and pulled a switch. A dim light fell gloomily and eerily over the small room. A stuffy, musty smell met their nostrils.

"Just like an attic," D.A. nodded, pinching her nose shut as she carefully stepped her way between this and that. But she released her nose as she looked around. "Do you ever come up here, Carlos?"

The Hispanic boy looked around the room, too. "Not often, D.A. But last year, I got curious enough to look into most of these boxes. They were packed with ... uh, uninteresting stuff. I didn't come back after that, partly because my mom, for some reason, doesn't like me up here. But I wasn't interested anyway."

"Your mom didn't want you up here?" D.A. asked, trying to hide her surprise. "Why not?"

"Uh ... I don't know." Carlos scratched the back of his head, looking bewildered. "Beats me. But she mentioned something about spiders being up here, and ... yeah."

"Oh, I get it!" D.A. howled with laughter. "You didn't find anything uninteresting, did you? It was the spiders!" She doubled over hysterically as the memory of Carlos' last encounter with a tiny spider.

But her friend was looking at her with a sensitive look in his brown eyes, so she quickly stopped. She hadn't often seen Carlos look at her in that way. He'd be sarcastic about anything she made fun of. But then she suddenly realized that she had promised to never make fun of him in that area again, and she suddenly felt regretful, despite the humor it was.

"Hey, I'm sorry," she said awkwardly, looking hesitatingly into his face. "I, uh ... I forgot."

"That's okay," Carlos said with a grin, inching away from a giant cobweb.

D.A. surveyed the room again and spied a pile of clothes draped over some kind of furniture that she couldn't see. She made her way over the historical keepsakes and picked up an armful of clothing. She brought it up to the dim light and blinked in surprise.

"Hey, these are old-fashioned!" she exclaimed. "A rich girl must have worn this dress back in the 1900's! Carlos, your attic _is_interesting. I wonder what kind of a history you have?" She looked at him with new respect. "You must have had rich ancestors."

Carlos flashed another mischievous grin. "Yeah, D.A., _now_you finally get interested in me. Didn't know it would take an ancient dress, and never imagined how that would connect with me. Ew, tarantula." He backed away quickly from another wall, closing his eyes for a moment to shut out the sight he had just seen.

"That's a tiny spider, silly," D.A. rebuked, glad that Carlos hadn't noticed the hint of color rising in her cheeks at what he had said first. Then she scolded herself, reminding herself that he was only her _friend,_ and walked back to the remaining clothes.

Then she saw it. Curiosity got the best of her when she saw the edge of a trunk beneath the other clothes. She picked them up and laid them on a box. Then she dusted off her new discovery with, we admit, tender reverence.

"Carlos ... did you ever see this?"

"Huh ... ?"

He peered over her shoulder and his eyes widened. What D.A. had just uncovered, was something he had never seen before, or heard of, for that matter. There in the dim light he could make out a tall trunk with a tag attached to it that read: _Things that Belonged to Carlos Ramone_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Spent hours putting this one together. Hope you like it. :)**

Cha. 3 A Frog and a Pebble

"Stuff ... that belongs to _me?_" Carlos said in confusion and excitement. He dropped down beside the trunk and got a closer look at the tag. Yes, the stuff belonged to Carlos Ramone, and Carlos Ramone had never known about it!

D.A. got a little nervous, and she looked around the room before whispering, "Maybe it's something your parents are planning to give to you when you're older ... or when you take over some business."

"Good guess, but I don't think so," her friend replied slowly, running his slim fingers over the top of the old, almost rustic trunk. "It says _belonged_. That means that the stuff inside _used_ to belong to me."

"Hey ... " D.A.'s heart pounded as she edged closer to the mysterious trunk. "Should we ... take a peep?"

Carlos nodded, but just then, they heard a yell from downstairs.

"Yo, Carlos! You up there?" It was Mikey, his younger brother. Or, as Carlos knew, his _very smart_ younger brother. He decided they would have to leave the trunk investigating for another time.

"It's Mikey," D.A. offered, looking a bit disappointed.

"Yeah," Carlos agreed firmly, stepping over the boxes to the attic door. "Let's get outa here."

"It's not like he could come up here anyway, in his wheelchair," D.A. protested weakly, looking very reluctant. Mikey was paraplegic, which meant he was confined to a wheelchair. But Carlos had made up his mind this time.

"We can't," he concluded, "it's just too risky. Mikey might pester me and find out. You know how he's got brains."

"Okay," D.A. sighed, dusting her flouncy, short skirt. "Let's go downstairs--he might need something."

When they opened the door at the bottom of the steps, Mikey was right in front of them, sitting in his wheelchair with an amused smile on his face. "Up in the attic? I always knew you were a bit weird, Carlos, but I didn't know D.A. would fall for that idea."

Carlos and D.A. looked at each other with blank expressions, then turned to the younger boy. "Shut up, Mikey," Carlos replied.

Mikey shrugged with a grin, then wheeled out of the room with the speed of a race car.

Meanwhile ...

Wanda waited in the parking lot for Pheobe. She felt impatient, and she was never in a good mood when she got impatient. She looked down at her wristwatch, then looked up and scanned the parking lot, tossing the short black hair away from her dark eyes. Why was Pheobe taking her time like that? She needed to go to the mall now, and now meant exactly the way it sounded--now!

Restlessly, she paced the hot pavement and stepped over a crushed cigarette in disgust. Pheobe would be furious and concerned for the world's existence if she saw this lying on the ground. Wanda stopped pacing and inhaled a look breath and exhaled it again sharply. She looked nervously toward the school building. If Pheobe didn't come soon, she thought she'd go crazy. She needed to get her mind off of her feelings and wishes immediately. Pheobe had no idea how much it meant to her that she was coming with her!

Finally, a spot of sun-lit auburn was visible at the doorway. Frantically, Wanda waved her over. Pheobe came running and panting.

"Sorry I'm--" she gasped.

"Let's go!" Wanda interrupted, grabbing her hand. "I wanna spend all day at the mall, and I can't stand being at school for another minute!"

"Wanda?" Pheobe asked worriedly as they dashed across the street. "Are you ... okay?"

"Me? Huh? Oh! I'm fine," Wanda sputtered, slowing to a stop as they neared the mall. But her heart ached. "I just ... uh ... really need some new school outfits!"

"School outfits?" Pheobe asked doubtfully, glancing at her petite, little Asian friend's feet. Her nails were done expensively and she was wearing expensive heels. When she looked up at her friend's new jeans and top, she couldn't understand. "You look great, Wanda."

"Well, I did go shopping before school started," Wanda sighed tiredly as they walked through the mall doors. She stopped in the entrance and pulled her make-up kit out of her backpack, and began re-doing her lipstick. "But I didn't have much time."

"But ... I thought you bought seven new outfits," Pheobe protested again.

"Come on, Pheebs, we don't have time for this!" Wanda urged, pulling her into the big hall. "Let's go to the tattoo shop first--I wanna get a little black heart on my hand."

"Wanda!" Pheobe gasped, looking startled as she was dragged into the tattoo parlor. "You--you're allowed to have a tattoo? Not a permanent one ... right?"

"Yes, a permanent one," Wanda replied firmly. "And it's going to be an expensive little black heart."

Suddenly, Pheobe jerked her Asian friend's arm and spun her around. "Wanda, you don't know what you're saying!" she cried. "And I doubt you're old enough to get a permanent tattoo! Arnold would be shocked, and Keesha would want you hanging with her all the time!"

Wanda laughed, without humor. "So, Pheobe ... where do _you_ wanna go?"

"Well, uh ... um ... " Pheobe looked around frantically, and saw a neon sign flashing the word: Pet shop. "Let's go over there and see if they have any frogs! You know, one like Bella ... your other frog?"

Wanda sighed sadly and followed her into the shop. "I miss Bella." She sniffled.

"Are you okay?" Pheobe asked kindly.

Wanda quickly wiped her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. But you know ... Bella."

"I understand," Pheobe said compassionately, guiding her friend into a corner of the store, out of traffic's way. "You talked to her, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but then she got Herman!" Wanda suddenly wailed. "Now she doesn't need me anymore, and thinks I don't need _her_ anymore!"

"But ... Wanda, you've still got me and Arnold and all our other friends that care about you," Pheobe tried to reason. She reached into her purse and gave her friend a tissue, wondering why she was so touchy about Bella all of a sudden. It had been several years ago.

"Oh. I know," Wanda mumbled, snatching the tissue and turning away to blow her nose. "Thanks, Pheobe. But it's just not the same. Bella ... she was like my little sister."

Pheobe didn't even smile at the thought of a frog being Wanda's sister. "So you mean, like a family member?" she asked gently.

"Yes," Wanda sniffled again, brushing the tear tracks off her face with an arm. "And the only family member I could talk to that actually listened."

Pheobe looked surprised. "You mean ... your mom doesn't listen to you? I thought she was cool, Wanda."

"I know, but she's very busy," Wanda crumpled the tissue into a ball between her tightly-clenching fingers. "And she either takes William with her when she goes somewhere, or leaves him at home, and I babysit him."

"But then we girls come over and we all have a party," Pheobe said encouragingly. "That's fun!"

"I know ... " Wanda sighed, and her eyes had a distant longing in them. Her heart ached again, but she turned to Pheobe and forced a smile. "We should probably get to shopping. Do you think there's any ... frogs here?"

"I know there are," Pheobe replied confidently, walking over to the baby animals in display.

Wanda brightened somewhat. "We'll find Bella II, then, won't we? Oh, I can't wait to meet her!" Her eyes sparkled.

"Hey, guys, guess what!" Wanda shouted, her usual, enthusiastic self as she ran into the school building the next morning, followed by D.A.

Ralphie, Keesha, Arnold and Janet turned around. "What?" they all asked, looking at the excited girl's face curiously. Her eyes were actually sparkling.

"I--have--a--frog!" she squealed.

They all looked at her blankly. "A frog?" Ralphie asked stupidly. "What's so great about that?"

Wanda looked hurt, but just then, Arnold lit up. "Bella II?" he exclaimed, coming toward her. "Where is she?"

"Oh, Arnold, she's just like my first Bella!" Wanda hugged her friend. "And it's all thanks to Pheobe."

"Don't mention it," a familiar voice came down the hallway. She came running up to Wanda. "How's she doing?"

"If that's exciting, wait till Carlos and I tell you what we found in his house!" D.A. suddenly exclaimed, pulling her friend into the school building. They ran back to their friends. "Did you have a chance to explore it, Carlos?"

He shook his head. "I'm waiting till we can both do it," he said with a grin. D.A.'s face had delight and excitement written all over it.

"I get the feeling ... this won't be such a bad day," Arnold said with a little smile.

Janet slowly turned to look at him. She displayed an impish smile. "Cous', you have no idea."

Arnold looked very nervous as he glanced around the hallway. Then he hissed, "Janet, this is _not_ a good idea! Would you leave me alone already? I'm hungry!"

"Oh, c'mon, Arnold, you're old enough to have fun, aren't you?" she whispered back in sarcasm. Then she giggled. "Besides, Mr. Patterson's never gonna find out who did it! How could he? I mean, there's atleast a hundred kids in this school!"

"But ... " Arnold squeezed his eyes shut in irritation. His heart thudded violently inside his chest. He re-opened his eyes slowly and looked around again. Then he felt his cousin's arm pull him into the Principal's office.

"Coast clear," Janet hissed, pushing him toward the desk. "Do it!"

"Janet--" Arnold protested, stumbling toward the over-sized sandwich in the center of the top of the desk. He wished he had "accidentally" dropped the pebble " on the way here. "Look, I don't think--"

"Arnold, are you a coward?" Janet threatened in a low voice. "Now quick before someone comes in, or you _will_ be in trouble!"

For some reason, against all his nature, Arnold miserably forced the small stone between lettuce and tomato. He hoped against hope the principal would swallow it unnoticed. Then he dashed back to Janet and whispered hoarsely, "If this plan doesn't work out, and to you it would be completely in vain if it didn't, you _so_ owe me."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Janet grabbed his arm and the next thing he knew, they were walking calmly back to the cafeteria.

But, as if to remind them of their guilt, they met Mr. Patterson along the way. Arnold's heart started pounding again, and he glanced at his cousin out the corner of his eye. She looked completely relaxed and even flashed a polite smile at the principal as he came up. Arnold's palms sweated as he waited nervously for the man to go on. How could Janet be so calm when she did something as mean as that? _Oh wait ... _Arnold groaned. _I did it! Just like Janet to get off the hook like that without a scratch! Arnold Perlstein, did you just lose your frickin' mind?!_

"Good-afternoon," Mr. Patterson was saying in a loud, cheerful voice. "You two kids better hurry and get something to eat. What are you doing in the halls at five after twelve?"

"Oh," Janet chuckled a bit. "I lost my notebook back here somewhere and my cousin and I just went finding it. Guess we'd better try again later, when we get hall passes again." She smiled friendly-like.

Arnold hid the shock behind a mask. Did Janet just lie to the principal?

"Well, I hope nobody stole it," the principal replied kindly, re-shifting some papers he was holding. "If you can't find it, better report to my office and you'll get help."

"Yes, sir. Thank-you," Janet said politely. The principal nodded and went on.

When he was out of earshot, Arnold grabbed his cousin's shoulders and shook them. "Janet, how could you?" he freaked. "You--you--you--"

"Arnold, get a hold of yourself," Janet snapped, pushing him away. "Why do you always freak out like that? Don't worry, you did nothing wrong! You obeyed my orders and _I'm_the one who lied. So leave it up to my conscience, why don't you?" She rolled her eyes and entered the cafeteria. It took Arnold a few moments to recover and follow her in.

"Oh, _there_ you guys are," Carlos piped up from the table at the center of the room. Arnold noted that Tim wasn't sitting in the spot he had been sitting yesterday when Janet had entered, and he shook his head with a sigh. "You practically missed lunch."

"Don't worry, we're fine," Janet said smoothly, going to order food. "So, what's up?"

"You won't believe what we found in Carlos' attic the other day!" D.A. gushed with delight. "A chest full of his stuff and he never knew about it!"

"It was labeled: _Things That Belonged to Carlos Ramone,_" Pheobe explained, seasoning her fries.

"Pretty queer, huh?" Carlos looked content with the mystery in the atmosphere, but deep down he had a slight fear. He didn't know what it was, but it was there just the same. _What did it mean?_ Was he _dead_ or something? _Great, now my mind's starting to function like Ralphie's,_ he thought sarcastically. His best friend had once thought Ms. Frizzle was a vampire, and had gotten the whole class worked up! He was sure good at convincing people.

"So?" Janet looked at them all with a blank expression.

"So is that neat, or what?" Keesha ventured.

"Yeah," Tim sighed dreamily. "I wonder what it looks like. Maybe I could come over after school ... and draw it! Do you think your parents would mind, Carlos?"

"My parents?" Carlos answered, setting his soda down on the tabletop. "They--"

"Look, it's no big deal!" Janet interrupted, her whole posture expressing disgust. "You guys _always _get worked up about things like this. And then, you somehow get Ms. Frizzle to give you those stupid field trips! I still can't believe anyone would ever be interested in cleaning out the inside of my nose!"

"Ew, it was gross!" Wanda shivered.

"Yeah, but _very _smart," Ralphie added, glaring at Janet. "It kept you from winning a very unfair contest! By the way ... how did you know?"

"The Friz told me afterward," Janet grumbled with her mouth full of burger. "I still have a grudge on you guys for doing something like that. Why couldn't you be a good sport and let me win?"

"Janet," Pheobe said patiently, "if we let you win, it would be around the forty-seventh time that year! What were we suppose to do? You kept taking advantage of us."


	4. Chapter 4

Cha. 4 Janet's Wild Ride

"Yeah, you crushed my mothball," Carlos said sadly, remembering. Then he brightened. "But I guess I owe you a thanks; the Friz had a much better idea."

"Oh, chill, Carlos," Janet muttered. "That was one tiny mothball. You wouldn't have won with it, anyway."

"Well, it was tiny, but it took me all morning just to find it," Carlos defended.

"Yeah, Janet, just admit you did something wrong for once," Keesha insisted in an irritated tone of voice. Her friends cringed. Now there was tension in the air, so before Janet could retort, D.A. spoke up quickly.

"Hey, Carlos, do you think Ms. Frizzle could take us on a field trip inside your trunk?" she giggled, and Pheobe giggled, too.

"Not before we open it!" Carlos replied in a confident voice. "Which we're going to do ... when?"

"I've got homework," D.A. admitted reluctantly. "But I might be free in the evening, if I don't have to babysit my little sister."

"D.A. ... homework?" Wanda sputtered in surprise. "_Ralphie and I_ always get homework, remember?"

"Hey!" Ralphie looked offended as he got up to carry his tray to the trashcan.

"Yeah, well, D.A.'s had a change of soul," Carlos said with a grin. "She's a lot more fun now!"

Now it was D.A.'s turn to glare at her best friend. "Oh yeah? Well, I'm still into books! Only now I'm a normal kid, getting homework now and then! My parents _approve._"

"Homework?" Janet sassed in an artificially-sweet way. "Oh, you poor thing! Never thought I'd see the day when D.A. couldn't keep up with her studies! Well, I guess I'm the only one going to Harvard!" She sighed with contentment and left the table.

The other kids groaned. But D.A. grabbed Carlos' arm and whispered in his ear, "Janet ... going to Harvard? Cheating never got anyone _that_ far before!"

They both laughed under their breaths, watching her disappear into the crowd of students that were leaving for classes.

Nobody noticed poor Arnold, who had been sitting tensely in his chair, hardly touched a bite, and not made a squeak the whole time. His mind was spinning with fearful, dreadful thoughts. He was still nervously fidgeting. Suppose the principal should call on him any moment and say--

"Attention, students! Whoever put a pebble in my sandwich, report to my office immediately!" came a booming voice over the intercom that same minute.

Arnold jumped. Carlos looked at him quizzically. "Arnold? Are you alright?"

"Y-y-yes," Arnold stammered, turning red in the face. Then he burst out, "What am I gonna _do?"_

"Well ... " Wanda looked at him disapprovingly. "Finish your salad, for one. And calm down, for another."

"I can't!" Arnold cried, spreading out his hands. "Mr. Patterson wants me to go to his office! I think I'll ... I'll die before I get there!"

"You look like you would," Tim muttered. "Why do you have to go to his office? He asked for the person who put a pebble ... " he trailed off and blinked in astonishment at Arnold. "Y-you?!"

Arnold squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. When he opened them again, he saw seven pairs of disbelieving eyes on him. Nobody wanted to buy it. "Oh, please, don't look at me like that!" Arnold moaned. "I ... "

"Janet," Tim suddenly hissed, his eyes spitting fire. "She got you to do this, didn't she?"

Arnold got up quickly from his chair, looking pale. "I hope ... "

"Do you want me to come with you, Arn?" Wanda asked apologetically. It still didn't want to register in her brain that her timid friend Arnold would do a thing like that! It had to be Janet ... and she was going to punch her lights out!

Arnold shook his head and took a calming breath. "I'll be fine ... I think." Then he shuffled out of the cafeteria.

Wanda turned back to Tim and they exchanged angry looks. Pheobe's eyes were stormy, too. Their eyes all agreed--Janet! "I'm going to kill her," Wanda exploded. "She's such a bully! I can't stand it!"

Carlos, who had looked as shocked as D.A., Keesha, and Ralphie, now suddenly spoke up. "Uh, yeah, Wanda, about that ... um, I think Janet's waiting for that right now. She knows she can get you into the Principal's office, too, if you fight her."

"But revenge!" Ralphie snapped. "It's high time for revenge! Remember, she nearly slammed us into Jupiter's hotspot at one time!"

"Look, Ralphie," Pheobe said softly, looking over at Carlos with admiration in her eyes. "For the second time this year, I think Carlos is right. Fighting Janet ... won't get us anywhere. We just need to be there for Arnold."

Tim laughed. "Wanda, I know how you'd love to tear her to pieces, and it's not like she doesn't deserve it. But I think we all agree that it _wouldn't_ be for the best."

Wanda slumped down in her seat and stuck out her lower lip. "Fine. But Arnold--that weasely wimp!" she spat.

Keesha rolled her eyes and looked at Tim. "Tim, you should talk to Arnold about standing up for himself. I think he needs advice about controlling his horrible cousin."

"And this time, you can't just buckle Arnold on top of Janet, like we did the time we were in space," D.A. sighed.

"Don't worry, guys, Arnold gets our full support," Tim declared, getting up from his seat. "And if Janet doesn't shape up soon ... well, I'm gonna draw a picture of her--and trust me, you don't wanna see it."

The kids laughed. Tim could draw anything, and they knew he could certainly draw an ugly picture, if he wanted to.

"And then give it to Janet and tell her what makes the picture so ugly," Wanda said, determination shining in her eyes.

"Arnold ... what happened?" Wanda demanded in a whisper. She, Pheobe and Tim were waiting for him in the hallway, without hall passes. It was a dangerous thing to do, but Wanda had insisted that it was the right thing to do.

Arnold, looking pale and crestfallen, came trudging up the hall, his eyes purposely avoiding to meet theirs.

"Look, Arn, we won't be disappointed in you," Pheobe assured him, looking into his face. "We know that you don't deserve what you got ... whatever it is you got."

"I'm to spend an hour and a half in detention--for a whole week," Arnold muttered. "He was really upset."

"____ that Janet!" Wanda said between clenched teeth.

Pheobe looked at her quickly and shook her head. Then she put an arm around Arnold. "We'll help you with your homework. Won't we, Tim?"

Tim nodded, poking his favorite pencil over his left ear. "I can almost hear the Friz telling us some smart saying about being there for our friends. She would definitely approve the idea."

Wanda placed her hands on her hips. "Well, who's that arguing with the Friz in the science lab?"

The four friends inched closer to the door and listened. They immediately recognized the voice. "Janet," Arnold whispered, a look of dismay crossing his face. "What's she want?"

" ... but Ms. Frizzle, I don't have any other choice," Janet begged from the other side of the door. "I've got to use the bus. I know how to handle it--remember when I steered it through space? You left me in charge, because you knew I could handle it! Ms. Frizzle! I don't see why--"

"Oh, Janet, did you know that when you're excited, like now, your heartbeat speeds up?" Ms. Frizzle exclaimed rapturously. "That means your blood cells are pumped much faster than usual, to all the parts of your body. Oh my, I miss those days."

The four kids behind the door smiled at each other knowingly. It was the Friz, and they could almost see her clasping her hands together, eyes shut and a content smile on her face as she recalled the field trip her students had, several years ago.

"Ms. Frizzle," Janet said impatiently. "I promise to return the bus in fifteen minutes. Can't you go without it that long? Really, I only need to get ..."

"Alright, Janet," Ms. Frizzle said gently, and her voice not showing a hint of reluctance. "But be sure you return it in fifteen minutes, and be sure you drive her carefully. I want the bus back here as soon as possible."

"Oh, thank-you, Ms. Frizzle," Janet exclaimed. "I promise to be careful! Thank-you so much!"

Pheobe grabbed Wanda's hand, who in turn grabbed Arnold's, who grabbed Tim's. They had to move swiftly, because Janet would come out of the room any minute. When they were around a corner and out of sight, Arnold declared, "Janet lied."

"She what?" Pheobe gasped. They all stopped and stared at him.

"Is she gonna harm the bus?" Wanda demanded.

Arnold shook his head. "I don't think so. But Janet told me she was going to sneak the bus away from Ms. Frizzle somehow and experiment on it."

Relief washed over Wanda's face, and she giggled. "Oh, she's so busted! Only the Friz knows how to completely handle the magic school bus!"

"It might get ugly," Arnold shivered. "And I told her not to; I told her that it wasn't a good idea. But do you think she listened?"

"Arnold ... " Tim shook his head in disbelief. "When I think back to how you said you had her at your place all summer ... I find myself badly needing a drink!"

When Janet had closed the door behind her and left the science lab, Ms. Frizzle smiled down at her expectant Liz. "It's all in your hands, Liz," she said mysteriously. "Take her on an adventure!"

Liz saluted and dropped to all fours, scampering out of the room and sneaking on tip-toe after Janet. When the deceitful girl stepped outside and smiled with satisfaction at the waiting bus, Liz dashed silently past her and into the open bus door. Bus knew when to open the door, and Liz was very welcome. The lizard patted the dashboard as an expression of thankfulness, then wiggled under it. There, she reached over and pressed a hidden button that only she and her red-headed mistress knew about.

"At last, Janet--the bus is in your hands!" Janet shouted, forcing open the door at the driver's side and hopping in. "Now do what you must do in order to be smarter than the Friz herself!" So saying, she pressed the gas pedal and zoomed out of the parking lot gleefully.

While they were gliding smoothly along the highway, Liz waited patiently. Janet spoke up. "Alright, Bus, do your stuff and destroy yourself, like you did that Christmas back in Elementary School!"

She pulled a switch. The next thing she knew, the bus was spinning around like a yellow tornado and she yelled, "Wa-hoo! I destroy you!"

But something was wrong. The problem traced back to the hidden button under the dashboard, where Liz was crouching calmly. The bus turned into a human-like robot! When Janet opened her eyes, she saw a neon sign come out of the ceiling and flash the warning red words: _Janet: You lied!_

"Oh, uh, shut up!" Janet yelled, hitting the screen. It beeped and flashed in blue letters: _Janet: Return the bus!_

Now Janet looked helpless. Suddenly, she saw a microphone, and grabbing it, shouted down its neck: "I'm getting rid of this bus, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

The neon sign showed _Loading ..._ for a while, the suddenly, in green words, her message came. _Janet, I am the bus. I can see what you are doing, and Valerie Frizzle is my driver. Turn around and go back, or things will get worse._

Janet gasped in exasperation. "Who ever heard of a communicating bus!" she screeched, pounding the wheel. "Now destroy yourself or I'll hack you to pieces myself! You're my enemy! I hate you! You make the other kids more popular than me because they always get to ride you! I want you out of my life!"

Suddenly, the bus turned into a gray whirlwind, as Liz pressed the button again. Then she jumped through the gray whirlwind and landed on the sidewalk. She didn't want to experience this. She covered her eyes with her little green fingers.

The next thing Janet knew, was that she was inside a black room, and the lights had gone out. There were no windows, and all around her, she saw words floating: _Janet ... return the bus ... Janet, you lied ... Janet, Ms. Frizzle knows ... Janet ... return the bus ..._ Then, to her horror, she heard voices coming from speakers she couldn't see, and they were chanting the words she was reading all around her. The words were white, and made shadows dance and spin around the room until Janet was dizzy with confusion and fear. In unison, and in many different pitches, they spoke her name; then, they warned her, each voice in a different tempo, and different pitch, all tumbling together.

"Okay! Okay!" Janet gasped, her fingers shaking as she reached out for a wall to steady herself. "I'll do it, I will! Just--just stop talking, all of you!" She didn't know that the bus had been programmed to do this--she thought she was going insane, and her conscience was striking her. Hard.

Suddenly, after she spoke, all the voices lowered and some whispered. Over and over they told her to return the bus, called her name, and reminded her of lying. Thinking she was crazy, Janet nearly fainted. But just then, her finger touched a wall, and she slammed her body against it. Lights flashed and blinked out in her face. Then she found, much to her relief, the steering wheel. But a new fear gripped her now--how could she turn the bus back into ... a _bus?_ How could she get out?

Liz opened his walkey-talkey and pressed the button of triumph. Ms. Frizzle's voice came back through her walkey-talkey almost immediately.

"Good work, Liz! Press the button!"

Liz scampered into the bus through a hole Janet could not see and flew under the dashboard, where the button stood, glowing. She licked her green finger expertly and smashed it against the button. After a whirlwind that knocked Janet to the floor, the girl opened her eyes and blinked in astonishment. The bus was back.

Liz was smiling as she jumped up on the dashboard, looking quite pleased with herself. Trembling, Janet ran to her and scooped her up in her arms. "Oh, Liz!" she panted. "I'm so glad you're here! I felt so--lost! Let's go back to school, shall we?"

Liz bobbed her head, looking triumphant. And Janet returned the bus without another word. Then she went into the science lab, surprised to find the wise teacher there, who in turn looked surprised to see her.

"Why, Janet!" she exclaimed good-naturally. "You were back in ten minutes! I think you shall drive my bus more often. How would you like that?"

"Uh, uh, no thanks, Ms. Frizzle," Janet stammered, her cheeks flaming red. She dropped the keys into the teacher's hands and turned to go. "I ... I like it best when ... when _you_ drive."

"Whatever you say," came Ms. Frizzle's warm reply. And after Janet left, they exchanged a high-five.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey--sorry about the ****long**** wait! I've been soooo busy again! Please read and review, if you like it! Thx! :)**

Cha. 5 The Baseball Cards

"Janet, I'd think after an experience like that, you wouldn't ask for trouble again," Arnold grumbled, reluctantly following his cousin out into the hall.

Janet turned around, looking surprised. "What lesson? And besides, I'm not making any trouble! What makes you think I'm looking for trouble? Okay ... I don't get you." She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. "But I need you to do something for me."

"Put a worm in Mr. Patterson's pie?" Arnold moaned. "I don't think so."

"No, no. Listen up." Janet grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "This is nothing but a message I need you to deliver. I'd do it myself, but I promised Mrs. Priest that I'd help her out, at"--she looked at her wristwatch and looked up again, beaming a smile--"right about now! So, will you do it?"

Arnold shrugged. "Okay, what's your message?"

"Look ... Keesh told me she and Ralphie have a thing for baseball ... baseball cards, in particular."

"Well, yeah." Arnold bent over and re-tied his shoe.

Janet rolled her eyes. "Stupid baseball cards, who needs them? But anyway, she wants you to tell Ralphie that she has her whole collection of them in her locker, and he may look at them, if he wants to. See if she doesn't have _more_ than him, or something like that." She rolled her eyes again.

"Okay," Arnold agreed, scratching the back of his head. "But why can't Keesh tell him that herself?"

"She's on the phone, something about an appointment," Janet replied, grabbing a thick green binder from her open locker. "Now if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Priest is probably waiting on me. And I don't like to displease teachers!" She winked and with a flurry of footsteps, she was gone.

Arnold sighed and pulled on the sleeves of his long, striped sweater. Then he plodded to find Ralphie. As it turned out, the guy was marching down the hall on the opposite end, munching on a sandwich.

"Ralphie!" Arnold hissed. "You're gonna get caught!"

"Nah, I've got a hall pass," he grinned.

"Whatever," Arnold sputtered, eyeing the sandwich. "Anyhow, Keesha has a message for you."

"Mmm?" Ralphie looked up, dropping a good-sized crumb on the floor. Arnold frowned and picked it up.

"She wants you to look at her baseball cards; they're in her locker. I think it has to do with competition."

"Oh, yeah," Ralphie laughed. "She thinks she's got more cards, but never bothered to count. Who could be as dumb as that? She was talking about showing them to me sometime, but seeing them alone without getting insulted is better!

"Thanks Arnold!" he added quickly before he ran up to the row of lockers.

Arnold shrugged and turned away. Then something caught his eye. It looked like a flash of red, but he couldn't be sure. It came from inside the storage room. Shuddering, he hurried to class. Things with no explanation never appealed to him.

.........................................................

"Wow, Keesh," Ralphie remarked as she came strutting up to their cafeteria table. He munched thoughtfully on his sandwich. "I never thought I'd say this, but ... quite the collection. You have some cool stuff!" He looked puzzled. "And since when?"

Instead of replying with importance and direction, Keesha observed him coldly and sat down to eat her pizza without a single word.

"Hey," Ralphie laughed sheepishly. "I admit I said some ... ah, threatening stuff, but I didn't say anything harmful. And look, I'm admitting that your cards are cool!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure you think they're cool," Keesha replied in a frozen voice.

Ralphie's eyes got big. "Then ... you're not mad at me?"

Tim, Pheobe, Carlos, Wanda and D.A. waited tensely.

There was a few moments of absolute silence around their table, and even the distant buzzing of other kids' voices seemed to have quieted down. Suddenly, Keesha screeched her chair backward and stood up, whamming a fist down on the table. She glared Ralphie straight in the eyes. "You're dead meat, Ralphie. You're a cheater! And I'm gonna destroy you in nine different places!"

A petrified look with a mixture of shock and confusion came all over Ralphie's round, innocent face. "Excuse me?"

"What?" the others gasped. "Keesha!"

She ignored them and inched closer to Ralphie's face. "Talk to me again, and I just may take the liberty to steal all your baseball cards and--and burn them up!" With that, she stomped out of the room. "I never should've trusted you!" she shouted before she disappeared.

"What ... was ... that?" Pheobe sputtered, looking very upset.

"I-I-I don't know!" Ralphie stammered helplessly. He looked very lost and nervous. "Did I ... uh, brag too much?"

"You do get carried away with your pride," Wanda scolded, her eyebrows knit in a frown.

"Wanda, you can't blame Ralphie," D.A. disapproved quickly. "Keesha knows Ralphie better than that!"

Carlos looked confused. "Buddy, maybe I should go talk to Keesh ... ?"

"Yeah, uh, maybe," Ralphie fumbled his words, picking up a french fry. "Sure, Carlos."

Carlos pushed back his chair and went out of the cafeteria. He knew that although Keesha and Ralphie argued every day over something, they rarely got into serious fights, like this one. Keesha had sounded so mad. Carlos knew Ralphie was worried that he was losing a friend, and he made it his duty to prove that it wasn't true. There was some misunderstanding going on--what had Keesha meant, anyway?

_I should have never trusted you!_ her shout echoed through Carlos's brain. He shook his head, making his boyish black bangs part in different places. Trusted him for what? Oh, there she was ... rummaging through her locker furiously. Hesitating at the sight, Carlos approached her cautiously.

"Uh, Keesha?" he began, clutching the spoon in his right hand. Only then did he realize he had taken it with him. Laughing in amusement at himself, he slipped it into his pocket just as she turned around.

Her eyes snapped. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing. I wasn't laughing at you." Carlos shrugged and ran a few slim fingers through his dark hair. He leaned against the locker next to hers. "Hey, is ... everything okay?"

"Fine!" Keesha replied with a roll of her eyes, jerking an armload of books out of her locker. "Everything's--great! Or it will be in a few years, and depending on if that fat cheeseburger talks to me again!"

Carlos bit his lip to hold back a grin. "I guess you're mad at Ralphie ... ?"

"I guess I am!" Keesha replied sarcastically, kicking her door shut with such a loud bang that a lot of students turned around to give her looks. She ignored them. "But I'm doing a better job of it than Ralphie would if he were in my shoes! He'd eat me alive, and if if my anger didn't take away my hunger, maybe he'd be gone by now!"

"Okay, okay. Chillax, alright?" Carlos held up his hand to keep her from stomping past him. "Why are you so freaked out about him?"

Keesha flipped back her brown frizzles and glared at Carlos. "He stole my baseball card collection."

"He didn't!" Carlos gasped.

"He did!" Keesha replied evenly. "And if you don't believe me, ask him what he was doing during last period!"

Carlos was in a daze. He found himself protesting. "But--but Ralphie wouldn't _do_ something like that! He's a smart guy."

"Is he, Carlos?" Keesha stepped toward him, looking him straight in the eyes. "Is he really?"

This was impossible. Carlos straightened to full height and glared back at Keesha. "Look, I don't know what you mean--"

"Yes, you do. Ralphie has been jealous of my cards for a few days now, which is a very long time for him! He _thinks_ he can get by it ... " she stalked off in a huff. Then she said stiffly over her shoulder, "Remind him not to bump into me--ever again. He's outa my life."

Carlos watched her disappear in an imaginary cloud of angry black dust. His mind whirled and his head ached from the pressure of this revelation. With a sigh, he slowly went to meet D.A., who was waiting for him down the hallway. It was starting to sink in ... and making sense. As much as it terrified him, Carlos started believing Keesha. _Ralphie never acted so nervous about a fight before,_ he remembered. _He doesn't care, as long as he knows he's right!_

_..........................................................._

"I looked for Ralphie all afternoon!" Carlos complained as he put one sneaker on his skateboard and pushed off with the other. He zoomed down the concrete sidewalk, with D.A. skipping to catch up with him.

"Where _was_ he?" D.A. panted for breath as she became level with his speed again.

Carlos slowed down, a troubled look on his face. "I don't know, D.A! But doesn't that seem suspicious?"

"Yeah ... " D.A, replied slowly, looking dismayed. "Everything points back at him, doesn't it?"

Carlos nodded, picking up his skateboard and walking alongside his friend. "I don't like it. But Ralphie was nervous and put on a pretty good act during lunch ... and you know what Arnold told us. Ralphie _did_ look at Keesha's cards in her locker. He had permission, because Keesh didn't think he'd take anything. It's not like Ralphie!"

A dark look crossed D.A.'s face and she pouted, tossing back her blond hair. "You remember what he did to my book of physics."

Carlos released a chuckle.

"That wasn't funny," D.A. retorted. "He didn't tell me he wanted to use it as a home plate!"

Carlos teased her about that incident for a while, until they reached the Ramone residence. Then D.A. looked a bit reluctant.

"You sure your mom won't mind me coming here so soon again?"

"Hey, you're no stranger," Carlos shrugged, running up Mikey's wheelchair ramp to the door. He pushed it open, resulting a merry jangling from the wind chimes above the door. A breeze billowing through the curtain of a window nearby triggered another set of chimes, and more tingling, sparkling sounds filled the room. Mrs. Ramone loved her hand-crafted wind chimes.

D.A. stepped in and took off her shoes politely. But she was pretty used to being here, and never acted like she was an honorable guest, but more like a member of the family. As she looked around the freshly-painted walls of the entrance, she said excitedly, "Do you think anyone will come up to the attic?"

"I doubt it," Carlos chuckled, wandering into the kitchen to pull out a snack. "I'll tell my mom we're doing a project."

"You will?" Mrs. Ramone stood up and closed the refrigerator door with a grin on her pretty tan face. She swept a dark bang behind her ear as usual and put her hands on her hips. "If that's all you're doing, I won't ask any questions. But you can't fool me--I know when you two are up to something!" She placed a saucer of freshly-baked cookies on the table, along with two glasses of milk.

She marched out of the kitchen as soon as she saw the two kids take bites out of the cookies and compliment her. Satisfied, she retreated to her office.

"Mom isn't always in her office," Carlos explained, rolling his eyes. "But it's something Mikey inherited from her--computers! They hang on them for half the day, and the other half are spent in ... reality!"

"According to my research, reality is very important, especially during the growing stage of life," D.A. smiled. "Okay, I made that up."

"C'mon!" Carlos set down his empty glass and grabbed D.A.'s hand. They dashed up the flaked attic steps as fast as they could without tripping over the steepness.

When they reached the door, Carlos pushed it open more confidently than he had last time. His dark eyes boldly took in the dimly-lit room, displaying faded green wallpaper. Instead of looking for eight-legged creatures, he squatted down next to the mystery trunk and dusted off the thin layer of dust covering its top. Then he took the tag in his hand and reread it.

"Things that belong to Carlos Ramone," he muttered under his breath. "Hmm. Well, let's open this baby! D.A, do you see a latch?"

"Of course not, Carlos," D.A. scolded, as she pulled a few bars and moved them. "This thing looks old, but it's not completely old-fashioned. Now open it."

Cautiously, Carlos lifted the heavy lid. D.A. helped him, unable to hold back her curiosity. What met their eyes resulted in dead silence for almost a minute.

In one corner was what looked like a pile of cute little boy outfits. Small pairs of jeans, small t-shirts. There was a little cap squashed against the side of the interior of the trunk, along with four small pair of socks. When Carlos carefully lifted the pile of clothes, he saw three pairs of little shoes underneath. They looked a little squashed, too, but they were very cute. Then there were several old storybooks and several cartoon DVDs that were for little children, and apparently had been made over one-and-a-half decades ago. One was labeled "Favorite" with a curious handwriting in black marking. There was an old teddybear, a soft blanket, a few fat envelopes, and more toys and little boy interests.

Carlos and D.A. removed each item after examining it with deep curiosity. Something was going on inside the Hspanic boy's heart. He felt a strange nearness, a funny, familiar feeling that he couldn't discern. Confused, he looked up at D.A.

"These things ... did they belong to me?" he asked slowly. A quiver, consisting of excitement, wonder, and some kind of fear was resting in the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly, D.A. sat very still. She had opened one of the envelopes and was rummaging through pictures she found inside. "Who are these people?" she asked.


	6. Chapter 6

**So I tried to put page breaks into my previous chapter, but I can see I did something wrong. I inserted periods... but maybe the wrong ones? Could someone point out my mistake? Anyway, I hope you like this chapter... and aren't disappointed about what Carlos finds in the trunk! :D I personally delight in the chilly idea, though it may be a well-used idea.**

Cha. 6 Errors

Carlos took the pictures and stared at the first one. On it was a man with raven black hair, a strikingly handsome face and a good-natured grin. His eyes were dark and looked spirited. Right next to him was a woman with a face framed by shoulder-length, dark brown hair with blond highlights. She had a beautiful, tender smile, soft, illuminating brown eyes, and pink cheeks glowing on the sides of her creamy face. Between them was a little boy, about one year old, with a head full of black hair and wide, innocent brown eyes. He had a little mouth curved into an adorable grin, and he was sitting on his tall, proud father's shoulders, whose wife had her arms wrapped around him and the little boy. It was a picture of perfect family happiness.

Eyes sparkling with interest, Carlos looked at the next photo. Here, the same young man and little boy were together, and they were "playing soccer". The little boy was just making an energetic little kick with his chubby foot, and his eyes were merry and bright. The man, supposedly his father again, was crouching and waiting for the ball, his eyes and smile laughing. They were on a green lawn, and there was a sprinkler in the distance.

The third picture was of the little boy and his mother sharing an icecream. "Oh, look," D.A. cooed, "the little squirt's lips are surrounded by melted chocolate icecream! Isn't that just the cutest thing ever? And them sharing the icecream." She slightly pressed against Carlos as she peered at the picture.

"Whatever," Carlos muttered, as he paged through the remaining pictures about the little boy's second birthday, cute poses and other family photos. "If we don't know these people, what are these pictures to us?"

"But maybe your parents know them," D.A. argued, taking the pile of pictures away from him. "And ... " her eyes widened and she looked up at Carlos. "They were in your trunk. What were they doing in there?"

"Look, we don't know if this is my trunk, right? I mean, there's got to be more than one Carlos Ramone on our planet." Carlos rolled his eyes, hiding his feelings of curiosity as well as he could. "And we could ask my parents, if you really want to."

"Sure!" D.A. exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. She was interested in things like that. "But Carlos ... I really think this is your trunk. See how everything seems to have a soccer theme? The little shoes, some of the t-shirts, the stuffed soccerball ... "

Carlos nodded. He had a resourceless belief that somehow it _was_ his. There wasn't a single relative that had his name other than himself. And if this "Carlos Ramone" wasn't related to his family, why would his trunk be in their attic?

D.A. sighed, her heaven blue eyes looking soft and dreamy. Slipping the photos back into the thin, wrinkled envelope, she suddenly looked over at the trunk and said, "Look, what's that on the floor of the trunk?"

Carlos walked aimlessly over and picked it up. It was a brown folder. He held it upside down and pulled out the slips of paper that came sliding out. Then he held them to the light to make out the words. "_Adoption Confirmation_ ... ?"

Suddenly, it felt as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. His face drained of color. With a sweaty palm, he gripped the paper for a while, then dropped it, eyes wide with shock.

D.A. grabbed the paper and shoved it up to her face. Squinting, she reread the words carefully. Then she blinked, swallowed hard, and turned to her long-time chum Carlos. "Wow," she whispered. "Do you really think ... it's your trunk?"

Carlos felt the attic start to spin. "I'm sure it is," he heard himself say. "Now excuse me while I kinda f... " The light went out and he felt his slim frame connect with a box.

.................................................

"While you kinda faint, huh?" D.A. teased without humor in her voice as the two of them sat in the livingroom on a couch.

Carlos had an expressionless face, and he was staring and absolutely nothing. Finally, he said in a voice that clearly expressed disappointment and pain, "I can't believe it."

D.A. looked a bit uncomfortable. She studied her friend's face, which was slowly taking the form of a hurt look, mixed with disbelief and shock. Her heart went out to him, but she didn't know what to say. It was shocking for her, too.

"All these years, and you never ... oh, are you sure, Carlos?" D.A. burst out, not wanting to believe it. Something told her it might not be true if it didn't come straight from his parents' mouths. But there was a kind of force behind the discovery which pressured her to give in and experience the shock and confusion.

"Look, D.A!" Carlos suddenly snapped. He turned to look her in the face, his dark eyes blazing. "For some reason, my so-called parents failed to inform me! It was stupid of them, and I think I'll never forgive them for it. But meanwhile, could you just--stop rubbing it in?"

D.A. looked a little bewildered. "Um, well, excuse me for living! Your parents might have had a reason for not telling you, Carlos."

"A reason?" Carlos gasped, looking exasperated. He got up and paced the carpet furiously. "Like what _reason?_ We found out that the reason I was suppose to keep out of the attic was so I wouldn't find out I was adopted!I guess we'll discover that the reason they didn't want me to find out I was adopted is because they think I'm better off not knowing!"

"And maybe you were," D.A. cried helplessly, hoping against hope she was saying the right thing.

Carlos stopped and glared at her. "At some time in my life, I would've found out."

D.A. just stared at him.

"Well?" Carlos demanded impatiently, starting to pace again. "Aren't they hypocrites? Flip the card--the answer is _yes_! How _could_ they do this to me? Pretend to be my parents! All this time--pretended they--they--I feel some strong language coming on right now, so close your ears, D.A!" Carlos suddenly picked up the vase on the coffee table and hurled it toward the wall as hard as he could.

It smashed gloriously, and D.A. jumped with fright. She opened her mouth to scold, but no words came out. Her tongue felt dry. Then she saw her friend sit down on the coffee table, shoulders slumped and his face buried in his hands. She saw a trickle of liquid squeeze out from between his fingers and looked away to control her shock for a moment. Then she went slowly over to him and sat down next to him, putting her arm around him.

"Look, it's okay," she whispered, praying that she could say the right thing. "It's going to be okay. Maybe you'll wake up from this nightmare or something, and ... "

"You're trying make-belief, like I'm some little kid, D.A?" he said sarcastically, keeping his hands over his face. There was a dark spot widening on his jeans. "Well, it's not working." He swiped the back of his hand across his face, stood up and ran out of the room.

D.A. watched him sadly with her big blue eyes. There was nothing she could do. Nothing ever had _had_ to be done before. Nothing ever went wrong with Carlos ... but she couldn't blame him for acting up now! _How would I feel if I knew I had lived with strangers all my life and never been at my real, dear home? _she wondered silently before rising to her feet wearily.

Just then, Mikey wheeled into the room. His eyes looked troubled. "Adopted?"

D.A. turned to him. "Mikey, you and your brother have a striking resemblence. It could be you're _both_ adopted!"

"I'm not," Mikey replied confidently, still looking startled. "I've seen my birth pictures. Even where my older brother is holding me--he was in our family then already."

"But doesn't _he_ have any birth pictures?" D.A. demanded.

Mikey frowned and shook his head. "Nah. I remember he asked my parents once. They looked kinda funny and said, very cheerfully, and a bit regretfully, that they didn't have any pictures of him. And that they regretted it to this day."

"But they never actually mentioned that they weren't _present_ at his birth?" D.A. gasped. This all seemed too stupid to be true. Now after over a decade of knowing Carlos ... suddenly he wasn't who she thought he was?

Mikey shook his head, bewildered. He put his fingers on his forehead. "Aw, man. D.A, it's like I never knew my own brother!"

D.A. set her lips firmly. She got up and dusted off her mini flouncy skirt, then the jeans beneath it. She tucked a portion of blond hair behind her ear and turned to Mikey again. "Well, I don't know where Carlos went, so I guess I'll go home. But Mikey"--she pointed at him with her feminine pointer finger--"if he wants to talk about this--and I'm sure he will eventually--tell him he's got my number. Okay?"

Mikey nodded and gave her a cheek-dimpled smile. "You got it, D.A. And he'll come around. But this is so--I dunno ... unexpected!"

D.A. nodded solemnly and waved at him before she left the house. Her mind was in a whirl, and her feelings were all mixed up. But there were a few things she knew: one was, that there would be conflict between Carlos and his parents now--they were bound to find out what was bothering him if he didn't come right out and yell at them in the first place. Second, although she wished they had never touched that trunk, she felt a sort of relief that she had helped her friend to find out the truth about himself--the truth his parents hid from him for much too long.

And third--she knew that her feelings for Carlos had not changed in the least--whether he was adopted or not, he was the cheerful, well-known Hispanic boy that he always was to her, and always would be. And she hoped he wouldn't stay away from her for fear that she thought differently.

A dread gripped her heart as she walked along the sidewalk, kicking at stray pebbles. _Things won't be the same, maybe not EVER again, _she thought silently. _This is bound to change Carlos--in one way or another. I only hope that he'll forgive his parents somehow. _

_Or the parents he thought they were._

_.................................................................._

"Let's get some icecream!" Wanda suggested to Arnold and Pheobe, as soon as she downed her last amount of milkshake.

Pheobe cringed and turned to look over at Arnold, though she hardly dared. Wanda had already stuffed him with popsicles, icecream bars, soda, and milkshake. At the mention of plain icecream, Arnold's face had turned from white to almost blue. He looked like a suffering icicle, sitting there on his chair. He was probably all frozen up on the inside, and Pheobe pitied him. She took courage and leaned over to Wanda.

"Look, Wanda," she said gently, "I think maybe we should thaw out, first?"

"Thaw out?" Wanda declared impatiently, jingling her wallet. "What is there to thaw? I'm about to break out in sweat!"

Arnold looked at her stupidly, as if that was completely impossible.

"C'mon, let's get something hot, then," Wanda shrugged, glancing over at the food courts. "Pizza pops, or hotdogs, or plain pizza?"

"Wanda, piz--I mean," Arnold stammered, "_please,_ Wanda, do we _have_ to eat? We've been freezing ourselves with food and drinks for the past hour, and it'll soon be suppertime! Actually, I think we've been here all day, since after school." He looked at his watch discouragedly.

"Okay, fine!" Wanda laughed sarcastically, hopping up. "I'm outa here! I've got a rollercoaster ride that I don't wanna miss, and a movie this evening. Who's coming with me?"

"Umm, my parents and I are having family night this evening," Pheobe said quickly, looking at Arnold.

He added, just as quickly, "Yeah, and my interests don't involve scary movies and scary rollercoasters. I've got better things to do. Let's go, Pheobe."

Wanda stared at both of them, looking hurt. Then she snapped, "Fine! I'll be all by myself, then! You guys go and--and--and be weasly wimps!" She banged her chair against the booth and stormed out of the cafeteria.

Pheobe looked at Arnold, and Arnold looked at Pheobe. Both of them looked confused.

"What's wrong with her?" Arnold muttered.

"I don't know," Pheobe replied helplessly, fidgeting furiously with her bracelet. "Arnold, we need to sit her down and talk to her!"

"Wish I had time," Arnold replied soberly, readjusting his glasses. "I'd like to cheer Wanda up, if I knew how. But I think this is something you'll have to do, Pheobe. You're good with people like that." He waved and walked away. "Gotta go!"

"But Arnold," Pheobe cried after him, her hands on her hips. "I'm not sure if she _is_ a 'people like that'." She sighed as she watched Arnold disappear from view. Concern for her childhood Asian friend was clearly marked on her sensitive face. It stemmed from her heart, and as she poured out the rest of her melted milkshake into the trashcan, she thought, _Wanda has changed, ever since she returned from California. I'm going to see what's up the next chance I've got!_


	7. Chapter 7

Cha. 7 Viruses

Ralphie was angry. His whole posture and expression showed it. He kept his lips zipped as he stormed past Keesha, and she looked the other way as if to avoid the sight of him. This made him even more irritated, because she wasn't offended by his attitude. Then again, she _had_ told him not to speak to her again. Ever again. Well, he wouldn't either!

When he reached the classroom, he realized he had been walking faster than usual. He was the first one there, and Ms. Frizzle was inspecting her earrings in a cosmetic mirror. When she heard him enter--anyone could have heard it--she turned around with a pleasant look on her face.

"Oh, good-morning, Ralphie!" she said happily.

"Mrrnn," Ralphie mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Frizzle asked, in her questioning, cheery tone of voice.

"It's not a good morning, Ms. Frizzle," Ralphie grumbled.

"Oh?" She laided her mirror down on her desk and came over to his desk. "Why's that?"

Ralphie's eyes took on a spark of determination and he straightened up in his seat. "Keesha is making up stories about me! Yeah, like I thought she'd ever do that! But she is--and I've got proof. _She_ doesn't have proof that I stole _anything_ from her!" he exploded.

Ms. Frizzle nodded wisely, just as the other students started pouring into the room. She bent over and said quietly, "Shall we continue this later?"

Ralphie shrugged and nodded. It might not hurt to tell the Friz. She was smart, and she would believe him. Why, she would go as far back as to believe he was actually the super-heroic Weatherman once. Yes, he would confide in her.

All during class period, the atmosphere seemed different than it usually was when Ms. Frizzle was teaching. She noticed it. She saw the glares Ralphie sent over at Keesha, and how Keesha concentrated coolly, but not with natural interest, on what her teacher was saying. And the Friz saw how Wanda wiggled impatiently in her seat, fidgeting as if she couldn't keep her fingers relaxed, and saw Pheobe glance at her worriedly. She also saw how Arnold was trying to ignore Janet as she kept trying to get his attention for some evil reason; how he was disturbed and couldn't concentrate. And last but not least, Valerie Frizzle saw D.A. looking tense and tired, as if she'd spent the whole night doing her homework ... or thinking about something that was deep to her; and Carlos looking sullen and unhappy, when his face would usually brighten the whole classroom. And Tim ... he looked in disturbance at his drawings. He had been trying to draw an object Ms. Frizzle had just described, but it looked stupid.

Finally, Ms. Frizzle went behind her desk and addressed the room: "I think there's something wrong with our classroom, isn't there?" She looked around at the posters about today's subject, the blackboard, and the wallpaper. "But I don't know what it is."

D.A. lifted her face and followed Ms. Frizzle's directing eyes. The room looked perfect to her ... but something _was_ wrong. She could feel it.

Ralphie and Keesha were too busy fighting in absolute silence to pay any attention to what their teacher had just said, and Carlos didn't even look up. He was busy tracing the pattern along the border of his desk with a finger.

"Maybe it's your clothes, Ms. Frizzle!" Janet suggested in her pesky way. "I don't see how they fit into this day!"

At this remark, all the kids looked at their teacher's clothes. She was wearing a dress of ... confused gray patterns. And her earrings were silver balls that sparkled so much it hurt to look at them. Then they looked at her face, to see her reaction to her careless pupil's words.

"Yes, they seem a bit less colorful than usual, don't they?" Ms. Frizzle simply replied, as though digging deeper into Janet's suggestion. "And there's a reason for that! R.U. the bodyshop manager and my friend, has created something especially for today, class!" she said, almost joyfully.

Ralphie stared at her stupidly. How could the Friz always be so happy about every situation? Sometimes it nearly drove him insane--like the time a T-Rex had been attempting to knock over their bus in the age of dinasaurs. Ms. Frizzle wondered with interest if the bus insurance would cover dino-damage, while her students screamed, unprepared to die!

Ms. Frizzle was presenting a queer, silvery machine, the size of a large bag of chips to Ralphie. It looked almost as round as a soccerball to Carlos, and it looked like a sad gray cloud to Pheobe as she stared at it through her soft green eyes. It made an electrical sound as the blue lights on it blinked on and off.

"Oh, my Electro-Virus Detector has detected a virus in this classroom," Ms. Frizzle exclaimed, looking startled. "She seems to know there's something wrong here, and with her help, I'm sure we can solve the case! Class, down on your hands and knees to find the hidden virus! It's an emergency!"

D.A., Pheobe and Tim were the first ones out of their seats. They crawled between the desk, scanning the floor carefully.

"Excuse me, but what's a virus?" Wanda asked as she got out of her seat slowly.

Ms. Frizzle turned to her. "A virus is something that doesn't belong--something that irritates and ruins beauty or operating. It's nasty."

"I told you, it's your clothes," Janet complained, not making an effort to remove from her seat.

"Janet, shut up," Keesha snapped. "Ms. Frizzle clothes are never 'the problem'; they help create the mood of a certain subject we're learning about!"

"Good observation, Keesha!" Ms. Frizzle smiled. "And whoever can find this virus will get my earrings!"

"Cool!" Wanda exclaimed, down on her hands and knees at once. She crawled frantically around the room. "I'll find it, Ms. Frizzle!"

"Yeah, like you've got a chance!" Suddenly, Janet was diving across the room and upsetting all the contents of Ms. Frizzle's desk. "I'll be the one that gets those earrings, Miss Slanted Eyes!"

"Hey, I'm not looking for the virus just to get her earrings," Wanda protested, looking hurt suddenly. "I just want ... " she stopped and sighed unhappily.

"The stains will probably never wash out," Arnold complained as he crawled around the room.

"Never fear stains, Arnold!" Ms. Frizzle replied brightly. "The floor is as clean as your clothes!" Then she turned to Carlos, who was sitting very still in his desk, a faraway look in his usually lit-up brown eyes. He was the only one who wasn't searching. "Carlos?"

Carlos looked up and met the teacher's eyes unexpectedly with his own. He quickly looked down and ran a few fingers through his black hair. "There's no room to crawl, Ms. Frizzle," he insisted. He didn't mention that crawling around at this age seemed a little embarrassing.

"Could I atleast see you try?" Mrs. Frizzle asked kindly.

Reluctantly, Carlos got up and started scanning the walls.

"Thank-you." She smiled and held out her arms to Liz, who jumped into them and started scrutinizing her clothes with a magnifying glass. Mrs. Frizzle chuckled.

"Ms. Frizzle," Tim spoke up five minutes later, "could we have some clue as to how the virus looks?"

"What makes you think I know?" Ms. Frizzle asked soberly. "I don't. But it's here, and it has affected every one of you."

At that remark, nine faces looked up from searching. D.A. was the first to stand up, straightening her shortskirt. "According to my research--a virus--" she stopped.

"Don't you see the damage it's done?" Ms. Frizzle persisted, looking thoughtfully at them all. "The atmosphere has become heavy; the room has become silent; my knowledge doesn't seem to reach into your hearts. Somewhere, a virus is blocking this, and we need a remedy for it!"

Everyone was silent, glancing at one another. Even Janet didn't have a smart remark prepared and she had her wide eyes fixed on their teacher's sad face.

"Until we can find the virus, we can't solve it," Ms. Frizzle said wisely. "I have no idea where it might be, but I have a notion that I innocently gave you all a hint ... and that it'll be easier for you kids to find it--than for me.

"And once you find the virus and trace the problem to the very root of it, I think you will find a way to fix it. Until then, this virus will remain and perhaps do greater damage during its existence. A virus needs to be controlled immediately." She spoke very earnestly. Then she looked at the clock. "I see this virus has taken up our time. Class dismissed."

Ms. Frizzle's words had struck every kid's heart that left the room that day.

Carlos couldn't help realizing what her words meant for him when she said: _And once you find the virus and trace the problem to the very root of it, I think you will find a way to fix it. Until then, this virus will remain and perhaps do greater damage. _There was a virus in his home--his parents had created it and now its poison had reached him. They had not told him in time. But he also knew that he needed to trace the problem to its root, like Ms. Frizzle said. Get his parents to admit how they had treated him, and get them to apologize. If even _that_ could change the feelings inside of him.

They had noticed how he had behaved last evening--distant and cross. On the inside, it had been hurting--and confusing. Carlos couldn't count the many times the single word WHY had screamed through his head, with every sharp breath of wind that blasted into him as he stood on his patio that night. He had felt alone--afraid--and angry. Lost ... and full of confusion. And his parents hadn't understood why. His parents! Who were his REAL parents? They would _never_ have kept him in suspense about something important like this. But now ... he had been suspended from _his real self_ for nearly fifteen years!

Wanda was angry about something else. It felt as though her own beloved teacher had forced her to come to grips with something she was trying to ignore. It was cruel and heart-aching. Her life _had_ become a heavy burden; her world a place of stress. And now her teacher had choked her efforts to hide her feelings. She had rebuked them--claimed that they would never vanish if she didn't fix them. But _how?_ She knew she couldn't _possibly_ talk to anyone. She was too afraid they wouldn't be able to help her--or they wouldn't think it a big deal. No, it would be in vain trying to tell her friends what bothered her ... but did she feel pressured to do it!

_And if they could help me, _she thought fiercely, _I might confide in them. But I'm not the kind of girl that has close, understanding friendships with anyone. I'm just a frisky, lively playmate. They wouldn't understand ... and it wouldn't change things. I guess I can just forget all this and go on pretending everything's okay, and busy myself with all kinds of things. I've been doing it so far._ She wouldn't admit that it gave her stress to pretend she was okay all the time when she wasn't, and ignored the fact that if she didn't do something about her virus, it might do greater damage. She couldn't see how it would.

Tim could see Arnold was worried about something, and he knew exactly what it was. The question was stamped all over him: "Is my own cousin a virus I need to get rid of?"

According to Tim, it was "technically, yes". Maybe not literally ... but atleast control her! She was older than him by only a few weeks, and she had no right to bully him all the time! If Arnold could only stand up for himself and confront Janet the way he ought to. Tim was sure he knew what his responsibility was. He needed to have a good talk with Arnold. He needed to point out the reasons why Janet didn't have authority over him, the results he would get if he took courage, and explain to him how it would affect his life, and Janet's, too. Okay--if Arnold couldn't answer that troublesome question bothering his brain, Tim was going to do it for him. The next chance he had alone with Perlstein, he'd do it.

As for Ralphie, he stayed after class and talked to Ms. Frizzle. If he needed to fix the virus going on between him and Keesha, it seemed like the first thing he should do. Ms. Frizzle, of course, was there for him.

"So, Ralphie," she said merrily, pulling out the chair next to his desk, "you wanted to talk to me?"

Ralphie nodded and rolled his eyes, releasing a sigh. "Ms. Frizzle," he began, "I've no idea how it happened. But Keesha says I'm not allowed speaking to her anymore. She freaked out yesterday!"

"Oh, then I'll have to change my partnership plan for the next project I had in mind," Ms. Frizzle chuckled.

Ralphie felt impatient. He hadn't thought Ms. Frizzle would delight in finding humor in the things he told her. But when he looked at her, she looked apologetic and her eyes were soft and kind. "Go on, Ralphie," she was probing gently.

So Ralphie told her the story from A to Z, or atleast as far as he knew the alphabet in this problem. Ms. Frizzle listened attentively, nodding and peeping a curious smile now and then that she quickly tucked away again. When her troubled pupil finished by releasing a string of negative statements about the unfair matter, Ms. Frizzle looked over the hefty heap of frosting and nodded again.

"Well, Ralphie," she began in her mysterious voice, "it looks like an adventure to me. You have encountered a virus and must trace it back to its source to identify it, like a true detective would. Go with firm steps and crush the obstacles that lie in your path! And when you acheive your goal, retrace your bold footfalls and reconnect with me, that I may crown you with the award that belongs to those of true bravery and have their names on the list of fame--worthy of praise and honor." She smiled and sighed. "Oh, that was so delightful!"

Ralphie, despite being a teenager, had felt the thrill of Ms. Frizzle's spirit, too. Always the dramatic one, he turned around and said in a cheerful tone of voice, "It's time to get a grip on the Ralphiebot!"

They both laughed, and Ralphie smiled at his adored teacher in a few moments of silence. "Thank-you, Ms. Frizzle," he said, his voice full of appreciation. "I'll try to find the source. There must be a reason her baseball cards disappeared. But you believe me when I tell you I didn't take them, don't you?"

Ms. Frizzle got up and her earrings blinded Ralphie's eyes as she said, "Of course I believe you. My Ralphie never lies to me."

Ralphie high-fived Ms. Frizzle and turned to go, but stopped again. "Oh, Ms. Frizzle?"

"Hmm?"

"What about Keesha not letting me speak to her?" he asked uncertainly.

"Well, if she really means that, you must find a different way to solve your virus. Ask anyone you think might have some sort of connection to the baseball cards, and do your best. That's all you can do."

"Alright, thanks." Ralphie hurried out of the classroom, fresh determination in every cell of his skin. He would prove to Keesha that he hadn't done it--and show her just how stupid she was to believe that _he_ would steal her baseball cards!


	8. Chapter 8

Cha. 8 D.A's Mistake

D.A. skipped brightly into the cafeteria with a wave of other students. She had braided her blond hair with bangs feathered off to the sides this morning, a touch that looked especially cute on D.A. Now she hummed to herself as she stepped in line to get her food, wondering if a cheerful approach to her unhappy friends would make a difference. She was going to try, since Carlos would make no effort to do it!

But when she reached their usual table, Carlos was missing. Puzzled, she placed her tray next to Pheobe's and sat down. "Hey, guys," she said brightly.

"Yo, D.A," Keesha mumbled, picking up her spoon and plunging it into her Jell-O. "I see _Ralphie_ is too scared to sit with someone he robbed recently." She glared at the boy with the baseball cap positioned backward on his head like usual. He was sitting at a different table with several other kids, and they had all taken an interest in him. He was busy talking.

Nobody felt like replying to Keesha's comment. D.A. felt the mood in all her sensitivity, and rolled her eyes. "C'mon, people!" she exclaimed. "Can't you learn to forgive and forget?" _It's a good thing Carlos didn't hear what I just said,_ D.A. thought with a slight shudder. He would think she was being unreasonable.

But so did everyone else. "Yeah right," Keesha snapped. "Forgive a guy that won't even admit he did something wrong or act ashamed about it? No thanks, I prefer to keep my dignity!"

"But he seems too nervous to be around you," Pheobe suggested timidly, glancing over at Ralphie with concern.

"And anyway, you made him shut up," Wanda reminded her impatiently. "What's he suppose to do?"

"Chicken-liver," Keesha muttered darkly, glaring at the unsuspecting boy. "There's one word that I _might_ hear from him-and that is 'sorry'. But I don't even get _that!"_

D.A felt her head begin to ache. Along with the aching came a sudden irritation against Keesha and Ralphie both. Why couldn't they keep their stupid mouths shut? Why did they _always_ have to fight? It was exasperating!

"Oh, Wanda, how was the movie last night?" Arnold asked politely, though not at all curious to hear the horrendous details Wanda usually drowned him in.

But today, her sweet little face that usually sparked up with excitement looked gloomy. "It sucked," she said shortly.

"Then I'm glad I didn't go," Arnold added just as quickly, bending over his soup.

Wanda looked even sadder. Almost heartbroken. D.A. had the sudden tense feeling she might cry.

Pheobe reached for her apple and polished it. "Not scary enough?" She flicked her auburn hair out of her face. Apparently, she hadn't seen Wanda's expression.

"No," Wanda said bitterly. "I didn't even look at it. Probably was. Who cares? That's not the point, is it?"

"For you it always is," Arnold pointed out, trying to somehow cheer her up. But she would not be comforted. D.A. wondered, at Arnold's expression, if he was worrying over something again. She looked around to see if Janet was strutting by ... but then she saw Carlos coming toward them.

"Hey," D.A. said, determined to break the ice. "What's up?"

Carlos placed his tray down on the table and laughed bitterly. "I'm adopted."

"What?" Arnold and Pheobe gasped.

"Oh, come on," Tim muttered, not even looking up from his drawing. "When will you two realize you're helping him enjoy his stupid comments? _Very_ good one, Carlos. And the sarcastic smirk on your face is a great touch for the character I'm sketching."

"Stupid-yeah, stupid," Carlos said scornfully, taking a little container of fries off his tray. "I _am_ adopted. Welcome to the real world."

"Did you talk to your parents?" D.A. asked hopefully, unable to keep the sympathetic light out of her emotional blue eyes.

"My parents?" Carlos stared at her. "Are they, D.A?" He paused and kept looking her straight in the sympathetic blue eye. "Are they _really_?"

"Hold it-wait a minute-back up!" Keesha ordered, holding out her hands as if to push away a giant object. "Are you saying that you're _not_ kidding?" Her brown eyes widened. "And that ... you only recently discovered that you're ... you're adopted? Impossible!"

Now her eyes were as large as Arnold's, Pheobe's, and everyone else around the table.

"Yes-he's _adopted!_" D.A. snapped, a bit louder than she intended to, for someone heard it from a table nearby.

"Adopted? Really? Hmm, sounds interesting," came a mocking voice toward them. Janet model-walked up to the table, screeched to a halt, and placed her tray daintily on the tabletop next to Tim's. Tim inched away resentfully.

"Adopted, you say? And everybody looked at the black-haired, wiry _boy_ sitting on the other end of this table. I assume, by my detective skills, that you were talking about _him_. Well, that _is _interesting. Something that ought to be put in the school's paper, of course ... I can see the headline: Carlos So-Called-Ramone Reveals Stunning Truth About Being-"

"Don't you say that word-Janet Perl-stink!" Carlos jumped off his chair, two scarlet spots on his cheeks and rage dancing in his brown eyes.

"Oohh, that will make a pretty paragraph!" Janet said, her eyes sparkling evilly. "Carlos blindly announces his fate of being hatched and then makes a pathetic show about it." She laughed with delight.

"I did not-I did not _tell_ you!" Carlos cried, beside himself like never before. He turned his flashing eyes around the other kids, who all leaned forward tensely. His eyes rested on D.A., and suddenly darkened till they looked almost black. "D.A ... why did you do that?"

"Do what?" D.A. gasped breathlessly, inwardly groaning about being _so_ wrong earlier. Her cheerful approach had never had an effect. "Carlos, I didn't mean to! You said so yourself and I just didn't think-"

"Whatever." Carlos held up his hand. "Doesn't matter now ... anyway. You might as well tell the whole school." He left the table then, but just before he turned away, D.A. caught a hurt, emotion-accented look on his face that he hadn't thought she would see, and she felt horrible.

He had changed. Completely. And she wasn't helping matters in the least.

...

Nobody exactly knew what happened that afternoon before school let out for the day. Some say Dorothy Ann did it-but most people still say today that she wouldn't have had the grit to do what was done. Still others-and I share my opinion with them-believe that Dorothy Ann did have some evil determination inside of her, and that during the rare times that it she suddenly possessed it, she reacted in a way that would have filled curious on-lookers with delightful horror.

But, if D.A. really _did_ do it, she didn't do it for others to publish in the school paper. So nobody ever knew exactly what happened, but people that saw Janet afterward could clearly see she had experienced a nosebleed. And D.A. looked very spirited and determined for the rest of the day.

But surprisingly and fortunately, there was nothing hateful written about the Hispanic boy in the school paper-his pride couldn't have taken it anyway, and Mother Nature must have known.

D.A. came face-to-face with Carlos after school as she was going back to her locker to retrieve a forgotten something, and he was on his way out. They stood right in front of each other, each so startled at the unexpected turn of events to step aside and let the other pass.

D.A. felt a bit nervous for some reason. Carlos was just standing there, looking at her with the most innocent look in his eyes and his black hair nearly hiding his eyebrows because it fell that way. She could smell the soft scent of his perfume and suddenly became very self-conscious. This was her best bud and she had hurt him. If anybody was going to say anything between them, it would have to start with her.

"Um, Carlos?"

"Yeah?" He looked at her a bit suspiciously, still not moving from where he was standing in front of her. He didn't seem to feel the need to move, and seemed completely comfortable reading her feelings through her eyes. He could read her, like always. Carlos was smart that way.

"May I sit with you on the bus?" she asked bluntly. She hadn't known it would come out that way, but she liked the blunt, careless way she spoke the words.

"Sure." Carlos said that uncertainly, but she caught a hint of relief in his voice. He even waited for her as she ran back to retrieve her forgotten something, and they walked to the bus together. D.A. felt that this time things would turn out good.

As soon as they took a seat close to the back of the bus, D.A. worked up her courage and spoke. "Hey ... are you still mad at me?"

Carlos looked at her quickly, but when he saw the fearful look on her innocent expression, he couldn't keep his heart from melting. He forced a half smile and touched her fingers slightly. "Forget it, D.A."

Relief washed over Dorothy Ann like a cooling wave in a desert. She sat up straighter. "Well, I'm ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that-and with that kind of volume, either!"

"It's okay." Carlos paused, glancing out the window. "Yeah ... don't worry about it."

"Good," D.A. responded, her voice bolder and more cheerful now. "I'd hate for us to be fighting like everyone else is. Have you noticed?"

"Noticed ... not really." Carlos shrugged. "I guess I just thought everything was so gloomy and dull because I felt that way."

D.A. nodded. She wished she knew the right words to cheer him up about what had happened. But there was really nothing she could do but lend a sympathetic ear. His parents would have to be the ones to make it right with him-and _he_ would have to be the one that started speaking to them.

"I hope you've talked with your parents about this," D.A. found herself saying. It was really just a thought, but it came out.

Carlos didn't look offended, but he looked troubled. "I can't. Gene would tell me how_ right_ it was that they never brought it up and I should be grateful he took me in as his own son. And Sophie would cry ... and that's about all she'd do." He flinched slightly. "Over what, I would never know!"

A cold feeling swept through D.A. when she heard her best friend call his parents by their first names, like they were some unimportant human characters he was referring to. He hadn't called them "Dad" and "Mom", and that hurt her in their stead. She loved Mrs. Ramone because she was like her second mother. If Carlos would be harsh and cold to _her_, D.A. never wanted to hear about it!

Carlos slouched in his seat defiantly. "And if I talk to them, I won't say the right stuff. D.A, I don't know. These days I wonder where I actually came from, and who my _real_ parents were. Why didn't they keep me? Where _are_ they?" He had that unhappy, bewildered look on his face again. "I'm sure they didn't want to get rid of me ... do you, D.A?"

D.A. shook her head. "No, Carlos. They couldn't have. You saw the pictures."

Suddenly, Carlos' eyes brightened. "You're right! We looked pretty happy together, didn't we?"

"And you looked like a little squirt," D.A. giggled.

Carlos looked thoughtful. "I'm sure they cared about me."

The way he tried to convince himself touched her. It must feel strange to not know anything about yourself-and to try assuring yourself that your past wasn't as bad as it sounded. She knew then that she would do _anything_ to prove that his parents never meant to give him up.

"And they must be out there somewhere," Carlos was saying. "I'm ... I'm going to _find_ them!"

The sudden resolution in his voice alarmed D.A. She turned to him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean?" A dark, but spirited look crept into Carlos' eyes and his voice rang with determination. "It's just like it sounds. Well, here's where I lived up till now, I guess. See-ya, D.A." With that, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried out of the bus.

D.A. sat, a mixture of feelings stirring inside her. She didn't know how to sort them out. She was a little scared, not-so-surprised at her friend's confidence, and also confused. Carlos wouldn't do anything as stupid as ... as _run away_, would he?

"Hey, D.A," Keesha's voice came from above her.

D.A. looked up. "Hi, Keesha. Have a seat."

"Thanks," Keesha dropped herself down beside D.A. and plopped her backpack on the floor at her feet. "I decided to come back here because my house is one of the last destinations for this bus. I'd be home a lot sooner if we could ride on Ms. Frizzle's bus. I wish we'd have a field trip sometime again. It's boring sitting with Tim. All he does is draw, and when he starts drawing, he never stops to tell you anything interesting. D.A, what's wrong?"

The flow of comments had finally stopped with an abrupt question of obvious concern. D.A. sighed and stopped scrolling up and down her iPod. She stuffed it in her backpack and dropped her chin on her hands. "I'm just a bit worried, I guess," she muttered.

"You?" Keesha sounded surprised. "What's the problem?"

"I know this may sound weird coming from me, okay?" D.A. snapped. "But _I'm worried about Carlos!_ There's something going on inside his head and it's not gonna take him anywhere good! He should know that!"

"Wow ... somebody's upset ... ?" Keesha inched away, staring at her. "And another thing-the only thing you really care about is that he's wrong and you're right-remember? Since when did _this_ start?" She looked very curious.

"Keesh, you don't understand," D.A. sighed, picking up her backpack to get off the bus. She flicked her blond bangs away from her eyes. "He's a friend of mine, alright? Besides, I feel like I ought to keep him from doing something stupid since I was with him when all this started. 'Bye!" Without a backward glance, D.A. raced down the aisle and out the bus doors.

Her heart pounded as she reached the front door of her house. Her little sister was shouting and chasing their dog in the back yard. D.A. thrust the door open and stepped in, dropping her backpack on the floor. She wasn't hungry for a snack, and she told her mother so before running up the staircase to her bedroom.

She had homework to finish-lots ... and lots ... of homework!


	9. Chapter 9

Cha. 9 Three Little Conversations

Carlos stepped into the front door of his house slowly, looking around to make sure nobody was around. But nobody _wasn't _around. His mom was flitting through the kitchen-he could see that through the non-glass window to his right. And Mikey was chanting something to himself in the living room-obviously doing homework at the coffee table while eating a snack.

"Hi, Carl! May I take you order, please?" Mrs. Ramone smiled and poked her head through the square opening. She was handing him a sandwich and a soda can.

Carlos accepted it, but avoided her eyes. He knew that if he looked into them-he would feel more hot-tempered than he already felt. Yet, underneath all that anger because of being mistreated behind his back for so long, way deep down at the bottom of his heart he felt a little sorry for how his parents were going to feel when he talked to them about this, and accused them of being unfair. His father wouldn't be that emotional, but Carlos would sense his feelings, too. But ... how could he keep from talking roughly to them, after what they had done to him? It didn't seem possible to go calmly about this situation. It seemed too dramatically wrong!

"Hey, bro," Mikey piped up from behind a heap of open books. "It's not what it looks like," he added with a groan, pointing at his pile of homework.

Carlos shrugged and curled up on a sofa, turning on the TV. He didn't notice Mikey watching him with a solemness in his eyes. Suddenly, as the television was droning on and Carlos' mind was as far away as it could get, Mikey wheeled over and snapped his fingers in his older brother's face.

Carlos was brought back to present time in a daze. "Hey," he complained, pushing his fingers away. "Mind your own stuff."

But Mikey wasn't finished. He leaned over and whispered, "When are you gonna talk to Mom and Dad?"

"Funny, you must think I'm smart in waiting," Carlos replied sarcastically, "or you would've spilled the beans a long time ago."

"No, I wouldn't," Mikey protested, looking surprised. He reversed his chair slightly. "You can count on me, Carlos. Stop pretending you can't to make me look bad!"

Carlos rolled his eyes, and then a sharp thing came out that he hadn't actually wanted to say-"You must think you're really cool, _step-_brother."

Mikey looked stunned. He and his brother very rarely had quarrels, and Carlos never talked in such a sarcastic way to him before. He backed up again, blinking his eyes.

Carlos could have slapped himself. He felt like it! But before he could apologize, their mother came into the room. "Cartoons?" She looked puzzled. "Don't you prefer a realistic comedy show, Carlos?"

"Nah, I'm good," Carlos muttered, getting up and leaving the room.

Before he was completely up the stairs, he heard Mrs. Ramone say, "Mikey, do you know what's wrong with him?"

He waited tensely.

"He'll come around, Mom," was the reply.

"Well, I hope so-it's not like him, is it?" The question was said more like a statement. Carlos ran up the last few steps and threw open his bedroom door. He wasn't planning to come down till suppertime-and by then, his suitcase would be packed!

_I'm getting outa here, _he thought, his heart pounding with determination as he tore open his closet. _My parents don't deserve an explanation after all these years! I'm gonna make it even-and I'm going to find my real parents! When I find them, my parents can regret what they did for another fifteen years, and then I'll come back to forgive them. _

_Maybe._

...

Wanda stood on the arcade room, pushing buttons and pulling levers in monotony. Frustrated at losing a game, she hit the side of the pinball machine and yelled. Nobody could hear her anyway. And if someone had heard her-even someone who was suppose to care about the smallest details in her life-well, she wished it to happen! It wasn't fair!

Tears blurred her vision and she missed the ball again. _Game Over! _came across in digital letters. She sat down next to the pinball machine and rested her black head against it unhappily.

Why did it seem like nobody cared about her anymore? Why did she have to busy herself something awful just to ignore that empty feeling inside? Nobody felt this way-not even Ralphie! Even though his father wasn't around either. At least _his_ dad came back on holidays-but Wanda's last summer had been one disappointment. Oh yes ... she had touched the fingers of some of her favorite pop stars and beheld the fireworks that exploded in brilliance in the navy-blue Hollywood sky. But that didn't matter now-it was all past.

If only her dad would've enjoyed the summer holidays with her and her mother and brother, there would still be a happy, warm feeling inside. Oh, how she missed her father!

"No letters, no phone calls, no nothing," she said bitterly to the wall. "No dad at all! It's like he forgot all about my existence!"

"I didn't know you felt that way," came a timid voice in the doorway. She looked up in surprise; she hadn't noticed Pheobe and Arnold enter the room.

With a sigh, Wanda dropped her gaze to the floor again. Pheobe sat down next to her and looked at her sympathetically. Arnold came nearer, but he remained on his feet.

"Look, Wanda, you should have told us," Pheobe said gently. "If I'd only known what was wrong with you-Wanda, I wouldn't have acted so ignorant to how you felt! And I'm thinking you looked on me that way sometimes."

"Well, you guys didn't wanna hang out with me a lot-" Wanda began stiffly, then stopped. Her voice relaxed sadly. "You're right, I should have told you. But I didn't think you would understand. I mean, both of you have your dads right near you, coming home to you every day! And mine is over in Asia ... and who knows when he's planning to come back!"

"You didn't spend your summer holidays with your dad and it was hard, right?" Pheobe said understandingly.

Wanda sniffled and wiped her eyes. "If he would have at least given me a phone call or a note or something that told me he was sorry about it, I wouldn't feel this way! But now it feels like he's just forgetting all about me!" she cried.

"Wanda, your dad could never forget you," Arnold said kindly. "You're the unforgettable sort."

Wanda giggled through her tears and tried to mop up quickly. "But ... but he would have let me know ... and it just-I don't know."

"Look, Wanda, I don't understand everything that's going on between you and your family," Arnold said slowly, "but remember the time you celebrated your eighth birthday? Your dad came in and gave you this puppy and you were so happy about it? I could see by his eyes that he adored you, Wanda. Now that may have been about six years ago, but that was total love and adoration I saw there."

Wanda smiled faintly. "I always think of him when I play with Mudpie."

"Of course you do," Pheobe said. "Have you ever tried to write him a letter and tell him how much you miss him? Send him a picture of you?"

"Well, no," Wanda sniffled a bit and wiped her eyes. "I guess I always thought he would do something before I would. After all, he's my dad. But ... I guess maybe I should do that."

"So you've been trying to busy yourself with other stuff so you wouldn't have to miss your dad so much?" Pheobe asked.

Wanda nodded. "Yeah ... I guess I never could get what I wanted."

Just then, Janet entered the room. "Okay, could you three continue this conversation later?" she demanded. "My little nephew wants to play now; and Wanda, do you have a problem with all your money? You can't buy your dad, you know!"

Arnold stepped up to his cousin suddenly. "Janet," he said sternly, "don't talk like that to Wanda."

Janet looked startled. Then her cheeks flushed with anger. "Who are you to tell me what to say or do?" she snapped. She stepped toward her cousin threateningly. "I'm in charge of myself! You have something to reply to that?"

Arnold looked like he wanted to retort, but his courage failed him. He stepped back uncertainly and retreated to his friends.

Janet looked at the three faces contemptuously. "I don't know what's wrong with you kids. Carlos is an adopted nobody, and you actually hang out with him! Wanda misses her dad when he's given her enough money to forget about him for years! And Arnold ... a guy that actually stood up to his favorite cousin! I can't believe you're not humiliated, all of you!" Janet shouted. Then she stormed out, scolding her little nephew for cheerfully waving good-bye, and left Arnold with his mouth hanging open.

"I ... I always thought she seemed a little rude and misunderstanding," Pheobe faltered, "but I didn't know even _Janet_ could talk this bad."

"Arnold, you weaselly wimp!" Wanda cried, standing up next to him. "You heard her! And pray tell, why didn't you _slay_ her afterward?"

"I ... I'm sorry, Wanda," Arnold stammered, holding up his hands innocently. "I just didn't expect a ... a full comeback like that."

"Anyhow, he stood up for you," Pheobe reminded Wanda, also getting to her feet and dusting off her pants. "That should count for something, right?"

Wanda smiled at Arnold. Then she looked at Pheobe. "You know, you've given me an idea, Pheebs," she said, a hopeful light glowing on her face. "I don't think it's necessary to call my dad and ask him why he never wrote. I think ... I've got a plan!"

"Don't tell me I'm part of it," Arnold cringed.

Wanda flashed an impish smile. "Don't you wish you weren't?"

...

Ralphie sat on the bench next to his teammates, deep in thought. The umpire yelled "Strike one!" and he looked up, only to be struck by blinding sunlight at first glance toward the batter. _No wonder he's not making a hit, _he thought sullenly, kicking his shoe against the dirt. _Well, just wait. I'm on deck._

His thoughts hurried back to their previous interest-how nobody seemed to know what happened to Keesha's cards. He must have asked almost every kid in school-even those that didn't _know _Keesh-and nobody knew what he was talking about. He buried his face in his hands. How was he going to prove that he hadn't stolen them?

_Look, Keesha, _he thought angrily, _you said I could look at your cards. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have bothered to look. And If I hadn't, you wouldn't immediately accuse me of stealing them! Who do you think I am? What's it gonna take to change your stubborn little mind?_

If only he had the free permission to speak to her! Maybe they could clear it up faster that way than trying to solve the mystery behind her back! It was frustrating, and Ralphie was tempted to forget about everything. Then wait for the stuck-up girl to forget about it, and they would somehow become friends again. How long could Keesha have a grudge on him anyway? Wasn't he irresistible to be with at other points?

He tried to make himself feel better with that. Just then, he heard the bellowing, "Strike three! You're out!" and poor Jimmy Malone trudged around the backstop and sat down next to Ralphie.

"Good try, buddy," Ralphie whispered, getting to his feet and grabbing a bat. He choked up his grip on it and glared at the waiting ball in the pitcher's hand. After a few moments of dead silence and pure concentration on Ralphie's part, the ball came flying over the base-he swung heartily-and with a mighty _crack_ he sent the ball out of the diamond.

After completing the daily home run and sliding over home plate, Ralphie came back to his teammates, wiping the sweat off his face rapturously. They were still cheering about his beautiful slide and Jimmy looked especially proud.

"Say, Ralphie," he said admiringly, "where did you learn to slide like that?"

Ralphie laughed it off proudly, sitting down next to him. "I've played baseball nearly my entire life ... and at some point you gotta learn how to make a good-looking slide, I guess."

Jimmy was known as one of the "bad guys" in school-he got into trouble frequently and all his teachers despised him. To be admired or complimented by Jimmy somehow made Ralphie feel very important. He chatted enthusiastically with his teammate as they watched the others take turns in batting.

He was still hearing Jimmy's invitation to come to his house echoing in his mind when he suddenly bumped into Keesha on the way home. She had just come out of the library with a pile of books and they all crashed to the sidewalk. When she looked up, an angry look crossed her face instantly. She looked outraged.

"I _told_ you never to bump into me again!" she spat.

Ralphie reached down and picked up her books humbly, something he usually didn't do when someone was mad at him. "Sorry, Keesh. Look, I-"

"Sorry! Oh yeah, I sure." Keesha danced in a rage around him. "Saying 'sorry' is just a way to ease your guilty conscience, isn't it? Ralphie, stealing stuff won't make you somebody cool. Trust me. And when you're older and sneaking around buildings, cutting the strings off people's money purses ... well, I don't want anyone asking me if I ever knew you. Got it? Now get outa my way." She attempted to brush past him very coldly.

"Keesha, wait!" Ralphie insisted, and she turned around with an icey look on her face. "I need to talk to you."

"You're gonna talk?" Keesha sneered. "Whatever you say won't soften my heart toward a poor little thief, I'll have you know. Sorry is an old-fashioned, wasted word and I won't buy it-again!"

"No, listen to me!" Ralphie snapped, taking a step toward her bravely. "You may think I stole your cards _once._ But you act like I did it again or something!"

Keesha laughed bitterly. "I don't even have to tell you, do I? Ralphie, that's why I won't buy any kind of apology from you. You wrong me, act innocent about it, do it again, and apologize! No, you shut up and listen. Is it any _wonder_ I don't want to see you again? Now, I'm going-and this was our _last_ meeting. Got it?" With that, she stamped past him again and didn't look back till she turned the corner and disappeared out of his sight.

Ralphie, despite his frustration, managed a little wicked grin. He already knew now that he _was_going to prove it to Keesha. He wasn't sure how, but he would. And how would the ferocious little slut feel after she found out he had been innocent all along? Determination made a little echo in his step as he hurried homeward to his hot dogs. Someday, he would have the right to yell at her ... and he wouldn't.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey-for those of you who noticed that Janet supposedly has a nephew and know that it doesn't make sense, you're right-my bad. lol Please ignore that. I may change it sometime when I've got time. Remember in "Butterfly and the Bog Beast" where Arnold says, "You're my only cousin, Janet." So there IS no way she could have a nephew ... and please review if you like a chapter! :)**

Cha. 10 Don't Do This

Her cellular rang. With a sigh, D.A. picked it up and flipped it open to see who was calling. When she saw the name, she groaned and sat up, flicking the blond bangs away from her eyes. "Yes, Ralphie?"

"D.A!" He sounded relieved to hear her voice. "I tried calling Pheobe, Carlos, and Arnold, and their lines were all busy. I _really_ need to talk to you. Got time?"

She cleared her throat and tried to get a more pleasant ring in her strained voice. "I guess I might-what's on your mind?"

"Well, it's like this." Ralphie paused, and sounded a bit nervous as he continued. "I got into a mess with Keesha. You know all about that, and how I didn't do it."

"I'm listening." D.A. blew on her fingernails, freshly polished. She was willing to believe anything now-she didn't have much spirit to stand firm in believing he had done it. Keesha was so sure he had-he was so sure he hadn't. But knowing both of them ... well, in the end, she thought she might believe Ralphie over Keesha. There was just something in his pleading face as he tried to convince you, along with an honest sparkle in his eyes that won over Keesha's stormy, determined attitude and cloudy face. He had tried telling her before, and she had acted doubtful then. But she was ready to believe him.

"Well, now Keesh thinks I did it again, or something. I don't quite get her ... but apparently I must've stolen something from her again. I don't know how-I thought all her baseball cards were gone already. Honestly, D.A, isn't she being a bit unreasonable? I tried talking to her after school today, and she wouldn't let me. All she did was say stupid things of no meaning and acted like I was too late to convince her I didn't steal her baseball cards. You believe me ... don't you, D.A? If you don't, I'll let you strip my house. I'd let _her_-but she's too cold to listen." There was another pause. "You believe me, don't you?" he repeated hopefully.

D.A. smiled at his long speech and faltering finish. He sounded worried, but not at all guilty. She pressed the phone to her ear. "Of course, Ralphie."

"Great!" he said, fresh relief in his voice. "At least there's one fair person around here. I don't know what's gotten into everyone else."

"Everyone else?"

"Well ... there are those that believe Keesh, and others ... well, others are hard to find these days. Our gang's kinda split apart ... isn't it, D.A?"

D.A. rolled her eyes. "You noticed! Feels like I was the only one noticing here-besides Ms. Frizzle. Poor Ms. Frizzle can't help if nobody decides to make things right."

"Yeah ... " Ralphie sighed.

D.A. sensed there was more he wanted to say. So she asked him, "Why did you call?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you happened to notice anything after school today-something suspicious. You know, something that might prove Keesha was wrong and that there's someone else stealing her stuff. I can't be the only baseball freak, can I?"

"And there's a lot of kids in school that would pull off something like that," Dorothy Ann agreed, crossing her feet comfortably as she lay down on her back on the bed. Suddenly, she remembered something. It hit her mind so hard that she lifted her head, startled. "Uh ... Ralphie?"

"Yeah?"

"Sometime around lunch period, I noticed something going on by Keesha's locker."

"Yeah?" Ralphie sounded eager. "What did you see?"

D.A. closed her eyes and ran a hand through her messy blond hair. "I saw two kids near her locker but at the line of lockers right across from it, and they were looking at something. Then one of them went toward her locker-I _know_ now it was her locker! He shut it and they ran away!"

"_He?_" Ralphie persisted.

"A guy and a girl. I think I recognized the girl," D.A. said, a cold note in her voice suddenly, "but I didn't recognize the guy."

"Who was the girl, D.A? Shit ... I should have called you earlier, D.A. I've been so worried." Ralphie laughed.

She was sitting up now, too, and a light gleamed in her eyes-a light of wrath and determination. "Ralphie, Janet has most certainly tried to mess up your life by pretending _you_ did it!"

"Janet." Ralphie spat the word. He didn't sound surprised.

"Yeah, apparently she saw you at Keesha's locker and thought it would be a good chance to steal those cards ... if she did," D.A, added quickly. "I wouldn't be surprised. But what would she want with stupid baseball cards?"

"They're not stupid," Ralphie began defensively, "and her point was probably just to ruin my friendship with Keesha."

"Friendship, huh?" D.A. laughed, mostly to herself. "Sometimes I forget you're friends!"

"Whatever you call it. I guess we're playmates," Ralphie replied unconcernedly. "Or argue-mates."

"Or future-mates!" D.A. teased, surprised at how she was enjoying this conversation. She usually wasn't the girl to tease someone. "Just kidding, Ralphie."

"You'd better be," Ralphie declared. "I couldn't imagine a life with her-I think it would drive me nuts."

"But you don't fight as much as Carlos and I do," D.A. insisted suddenly. "We're at it all the time."

"No, you're not," Ralphie said in an unexpectedly-firm tone.

"We're ... not?" D.A. sighed. "You're right, actually. We've been discussing more serious stuff lately that you don't just banter over."

"Ooohhh," Ralphie mocked in a low tone of voice.

"No ... no, it's not what you think," D.A. protested quickly, angry at the heat that she felt in her face. "Shut up, Ralphie. You know we're just buddies, and that's all we've ever been or will be." She loved the confidence in her voice. "By the way, maybe you should talk to him. He's very ... upset about his parents."

"How would I help him?" Ralphie chuckled. "I'm always upset with my parents, too. Maybe I could just let him know 'someone feels just like you do, so shut up, play soccer and have fun'?"

"No-I take back my suggestion!" D.A. said quickly. "Okay, gotta go. 'Bye!"

After snapping her cellular shut, D.A. jumped off her bed, heart pounding. For some reason, she had pulled Carlos into the conversation and now ... oh, if he wouldn't do anything stupid! She felt so responsible for some reason ... and a sudden fear and determination made her race down the stairs after pulling her blond hair together into a short ponytail, leaving out the bangs. She should have taken action sooner ... would he still be there, if he really _did_ mean to run away? Oh, she was sure he was up to something crazy like that! She mentally slapped herself for drooping around so long and outwardly slapped a note with a magnet against the fridge that said:

_Mom,_

_I'm going 2 the Ramone's. Planning 2 be back _

_this evening. Luv u! D.A._

When she reached the front door of the Ramone household, she rang the doorbell. Mrs. Ramone came to the door almost instantly, and she looked a little stressed. But she put on a smile. D.A. felt, with a sinking heart, that Carlos hadn't talked to his parents yet.

"Oh, hi, D.A. Come in." She didn't sound as cheerful as always, but neither did she sound distressed. She opened the door wider and twisted a thick black bang behind her ear. "Carlos is upstairs."

"Thanks." D.A. flashed her a smile and hurried up the staircase. Now that she knew he hadn't left yet-she felt so relieved.

But her relief turned to a foolish, silly feeling when she entered his bedroom without knocking and saw him sprawled over the bed, with no suitcase or ticket in sight. She felt embarrassed of herself-maybe she had been over-reacting after all. Maybe he hadn't meant what he said, or maybe he meant something different. At any rate, she had rushed up here, rudely barged into his bedroom-all for nothing. Uncomfortably, she fidgeted while Carlos got up and dusted his jeans, looking a bit surprised.

"Hey, Carlos!" she burst out, feeling her face heat up in embarrassment. "Can I, uh ... come in?"

Carlos narrowed his eyes at her. "You _are_ in, D.A."

"Oh ... right." D.A. nervously ran a hand down her side and then folded her arms. "I just ... "

"You what?" Carlos asked, giving her his full attention now. He pointed to a chair apposite his bed and motioned for her to sit down. "Sit down, Blondie."

D.A. helplessly walked over to the chair, fighting to find the right words as she brushed the soccer ball off the chair and sat down. It rolled to Carlos' feet. "It's stupid, actually," she said with a nervous laugh. "I just thought ... I don't know, like you might have ... uh, run away or something."

It hurt Dorothy Ann's pride to speak like that to _him-_of all people. It also didn't sound like the words were coming from her mouth, or the voice was her voice. How she had changed during the last few days! Where was the confident, sensible D.A. who went by the book and never needed to be embarrassed of anything? Where was the girl that _enjoyed_ seeing Carlos in the wrong and being smart? She had disappeared. D.A. felt bewildered and lost ... frantically, she tried to get a grip of herself.

But she couldn't. She _had_ to say something. Deep down inside, she knew she actually cared about her friend, as much as she always acted like she didn't. If he would go off and hurt himself-she would be _so_ mad. D.A. knew running away wasn't the answer, and she must drop the hint now. And to her surprise, she did.

Carlos looked stunned. "You actually thought I would do that?" he blurted. The soccer ball was resting between his feet.

All at once, D.A. felt another flame of utter shame-so now _she_was finally wrong-and it fiercely humiliated her! But before she could jump up from her seat and retort a sharp insult, Carlos kicked the soccer ball toward her, got up, and ran to his closet, pushing it open. Out came a fully-packed suitcase, and a plane ticket!

D.A. gasped.

"I don't know how you guessed it, but you're right," he declared, striding swiftly across the room to lock his bedroom door. "I was thinking of crawling out that window the minute you came in, because I was so tired of waiting for the black stuff in the sky!"

"It's called night," D.A. stated. "And you were kinda obvious on the bus, Carlos. Do you take me for stupid?"

"No ... I mean," Carlos mumbled, setting the suitcase against the wall, "I knew you would understand. It's something I've gotta do. This is driving me crazy, and I wanna get back to enjoying life. I can't _do_ that-until I've seen my real parents."

D.A. felt her heart sink. She stared into her friend's serious brown eyes, which were usually so full of mischief or sparkling over something humorous. "I understand that you _want_ to," she said softly, "but I don't understand why you _have_ to."

A sudden defensive look appeared on his boyish face. He stayed on his feet. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Carlos, you need to talk to your so-called parents!" she pleaded, adding the "so-called" so he wouldn't stop to correct her again. But it made her mad to use the term. Mr. And Mrs. Ramone might deserve it, but in a way, she felt that they did not. It _had_ to all be a misunderstanding! "First of all, if you don't talk to them, how will you know where to look for your real parents? You could get lost, get short on money, and have to work your way back home.

"Second, if you leave without explaining your reason to them, won't it hurt them worse than if you leave them cruelly without a good-bye? And be honest, Carlos, you don't _want_ them to hurt even if you do-you've known them for much too long and somewhere deep down, you don't hate them because you know they really love you.

"And third-I think you're old enough to tell your decision to your parents and get permission to go, instead of sneaking away in the night. You're not a little naughty kid, Carlos-you're an intelligent teenager with rights that the law would give you to choose between your real parents, and ... and Mr. and Mrs. Ramone. You're not tied down here without anyone to respect your wishes, Carlos. Do you understand me?"

He had been listening all this while, with close observation to everything she said. Then, instead of tossing in a sarcastic comment or smart remark, he stayed silent. He looked at the ticket in his hand, then finally sank down on the edge of his bed. He looked very torn between two decisions, and actually frustrated. He was more frustrated now than he had been that time years ago when old Mr. Rhule had made them do an endless list of duties at Walkerville Elementary. Lucky for him, he had a smart brother named Mikey who helped them program a computer to do the chores for them. But his smart "step-brother" Mikey couldn't help him out on this one-he was forced to consider D.A.'s plea. It made more sense than he wanted to admit.

"It's not fair," he said at least, heatedly. "It serves them right. I feel like leaving them just to crush them. You're wrong, D.A. I don't think I like them-and I highly doubt they ever loved me. Probably just took me in because they felt they had to!"

There was anger and determination etched into Carlos' voice, but he didn't look up to meet her eyes. He folded his arms and stared coldly at is soccerball. D.A. felt the impulse to sit down next to him and gently talk sense into him, carefully showing him there was a better way. There would be no good in yelling or commanding him as she used to do. Actually ... it had _never_ worked. His self-esteem matched hers evenly.

"Carlos, I really think you're only telling yourself this!" It was the best she could do. "It's not really true, soccer-freak, you know it's not!"

Carlos stared at her, and slowly a grin came out of the corner of his mouth. "Did you just call me a soccer-freak?"

D.A. blushed. She lifted her chin and looked at him in superiority. "I believe it describes you perfectly, so I see no harm in calling you one."

"That was kind of cute ... Blondie." Carlos laughed a bit, then sighed. He shook his head. "I guess if I think of it, it always did feel like I was their kid, all loved over and kinda spoiled. But D.A. if they really loved me, why didn't they tell me about their parents? Could they _really_ be as stupid as to not tell me?"

"Maybe they would have if you had asked them about it," D.A. suggested timidly.

Carlos rolled his eyes. "It never crossed my mind to do that!"

"Listen ... soccer-freak." D.A smiled a bit. She crossed the floor and put a hand on his shoulder, making him look straight up into the bewitching blue eyes in her face. "You need to listen to me, okay? Please talk to them. For my sake, if for nothing else. Okay?" She looked at his boyish dark hair and in a sarcastic but friendly way she patted it down to his eyes. "Trust me, you won't regret it. Even _if_ there's a commotion."

Carlos smiled and ducked away from her taunting hand. "You've become kinda ... different. But maybe you're right, D.A."

At that moment, D.A. suddenly turned back into her old haughty self and stepped backward. "I'm right?" she exclaimed. "Carlos Ramone actually admitted to my face that I was right? Well, there's _some_ hope for you, I suppose!" With that she strode away and seated herself comfortably in his chair again.

Carlos's eyes sparkled for some reason and he got to his feet. "But you're coming with me."

D.A.'s eyes flew open. She sat up straight. "I am _so_ not!" she retorted. "If this is one of your jokes, Carlos, then it's lame as usual."


	11. Chapter 11

**I've been taking longer than I wanted to as usual ... I'm also working on a story called Fairyland Valley and one called Mikki's Journal, and yeah it's a little hard writing three stories at one time.. so naturally I've stopped the first one for a while, and occasionally write in the second one. But I **_**am **_**planning to finish this entire story soon! So keeping reading and reviewing ... I appreciate it if you point out something that doesn't make sense, or if you tell me what you think of it! Thx!**

Cha. 11

It was a personal family thing. No way was D.A. going to do what Carlos begged her to do! Who knew what emotion and drama would occur. She didn't want to be part of it-she _wasn't_part of it. Carlos had no right to want her there; so she sat on the porch steps under the lamp lights in front of the house, gazing at the stars. But she couldn't help hearing some of what went on inside the Ramone home.

...

**Carlos' POV**

Carlos wouldn't admit it, but he was a bit scared to confront his parents. That's why he wanted D.A. there ... though he wasn't sure how she would make things any better. With a sigh, he dropped another step down the stairs, then paused again. Maybe she was right; after all, if his parents flew into action, he didn't want her to witness it. D.A. knew nothing but the "cool" issues that went on in his family ... or she hadn't. To Carlos' great surprise, he found that she was a closer friend to him than he had ever thought!

When he finally reached the bottom step, he could see right into the open living room door. It was dark and his Mikey was watching TV. Carlos didn't find that all too surprising. "Hey, Mikey," he said, stepping into the room and looking around. "Where's Mom and Dad?"

"They're in the kitchen, I think," Mikey replied without taking his eyes off the screen. "Why?"

Carlos knew that his brother didn't just ask "why" anytime. He didn't answer and wandered over to the kitchen instead. His parents were talking behind the door but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He could have if he had gone into the entrance and listened by the non-glass window. So he knocked, then turned the knob.

"Hey sport," Mr. Ramone smiled, beckoning him in. "What's on your mind?"

Carlos hesitated. _How did they know something was on my mind? _he wondered, but stepped into the kitchen light anyway. His mother was sitting on the kitchen counter and loftily balancing a half-eaten sandwich in one hand. His father was holding a soda pop can, but didn't seem interested in it at the moment. They were both looking at him expectantly, and it gave his heart a sinking feeling.

Now, D.A. was sitting right in front of the kitchen-well, almost. The entrance into the house was right next to the kitchen, and there was the non-glass window. Well, how much could a person really hear through the walls-if the door was completely closed! Carlos stopped at that, remembering he hadn't completely shut the door. Then he proceeded to say _quietly_, "I need to talk to you guys."

Mrs. Ramone nodded, twisting her bangs between her slim beautiful fingers. She didn't look the least bit concerned.

"Well ... umm ... " Suddenly, he wished he was anywhere but here at the moment. He glanced at the kitchen door and sort of backed toward it, leaning against the wall beside it. On the outside, he looked cool and collected. On the inside ... he _screamed_. What was he thinking? Why had he listened to D.A's advice like that? She was wrong of course-she was _always _wrong, that book-programmed, stupid blond head! And he was right in the first place! What had made him _listen?_

"Carlos, you _did_ want to tell us something, didn't you?"

It was Mrs. Ramone, and she looked very suspicious. She thought he had gotten into trouble at school ... or something. Well, he needed to say something.

"I was in the attic," he blurted out. Okay, that sounded pretty stupid. He scratched the back of his dark-haired head.

"And?" Mrs. Ramone probed. Now the idea that he might have broken something old and treasured occurred to her. She was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter now.

"Well ... umm ... " Carlos stumbled for words again. He strangely felt like the time he had tried to convince Ms. Frizzle to go to an auto parts store and see if they could fix the bus. He wanted her to leave so they could make her a cake ... in the bakery. Surprisingly, and much to his relief, she had bought it. But this wasn't a time to make excuses ... he was coming out with the truth. And it wasn't suppose to bother him ... it was suppose to bother _them_.

When Mr. Ramone opened his mouth to urge his son to hurry up and say it, Carlos heard himself say, "I came across this trunk-with my name on it."

At the mention of that_, _his parents looked at each other with an exchanged expression that he would never have been able to define had he not known what this was all about. With fresh courage, he surged on.

"D.A. and I opened it. We found all kinds of baby stuff, pictures ... and ... and papers."

His parents were looking at him, unable to say anything. Carlos noticed that his mother's face turned white. He hesitated with continuing, then decided it was the right thing to do. "Well, the papers said I was adopted. I want to know if that's true. But more than that, I want to know where my real parents are, and how I can locate them."

The last words he said in his coldest manner, and he could see by the flinching on his parents' faces that he had hurt them.

"Carl, sweetie, it's not-" Mrs. Ramone began, her voice shaking.

"Now listen here, Carlos," Mr. Ramone said sternly. None of them really knew what to say, but they were obviously groping for something in confusion.

Carlos stepped forward, his eyes flashing. "Listen to what? You're not my father-you only pretended you were, and thought I'd never find out you're just some guy that thought they could train me into being a son of yours like a stray _puppy!"_ he spat. The rage was very evident in his eyes.

Mrs. Ramone grabbed a nearby towel and sobbed into it. Carlos felt slightly uncomfortable, but his fury was too much in control for him to really care at the moment.

Mr. Ramone put down his soda can on the edge of the sink and stared at his oldest son. "Is-is that what you think?" he asked.

"Well, what else?" Carlos snapped, crossing his arms and glaring right back into his father's eyes. "If you had loved me like your own kid, you would've told me I was adopted! You would've told me about my family! And you wouldn't have taken me away from them." He swallowed hard, but didn't release his dad from his steady gaze.

"Taken you away?" Mrs. Ramone cried, looking up from her towel. "Carlos, if we hadn't, you wouldn't be where you are today_._"

"No, I wouldn't," Carlos agreed with an obvious hint of sarcasm in his voice.

But she wiped her eyes and slid off the counter, continuing in a calmer voice: "You were just a little two-year-old then, sweetie. You could never have taken care of yourself-and we couldn't just leave you there-without your parents and all."

"What do you mean without my parents?" Carlos demanded. A cold caterpillar of fear started crawling up his spine ...

"They died, son," Mr. Ramone said gently. There was a stifled sob from his mother, but Carlos was staring at his dad in disbelief. "The will read that, well, we were to take you in if something happened."

Carlos didn't know what to say. The flash of anger left his brown eyes while he kept staring at Mr. Ramone. "They died?" he whispered. "You mean ... when I was small?"

His father nodded solemnly. "Yes, they did."

Carlos sat down in a kitchen chair, his mind spinning thoughts. He couldn't sort them out, just as he couldn't sort out his feelings or words at the moment.

"Do you remember anything about them?" Mrs. Ramone asked somewhat timidly as she came and ran her fingers through his tumbled black hair tenderly. She had always known in her heart that someday they would have to face this challenge. It had always made her feel guilty if she thought of how they were keeping it from him ... they had meant to tell him a while back ... but she supposed this was their reward for hesitating so long. Nevertheless, now she was concerned over another thing.

Carlos looked confused and shook his head.

Mr. Ramone looked at his wife. Then he crouched down to look into his son's eyes. "They loved you very much, sport-never doubt that. They wouldn't have given you away for all the world if-if this hadn't happened."

"I know, Dad," Carlos replied, suddenly feeling freed from his doubts and confusion. It felt like he was breathing in fresh air that in turn blew out all the anger, pain, and stubbornness that had been there. But his mind wasn't completely cleared-he needed a few more answers. "What happened to them?" he asked, looking dazed.

"They were at a meeting, Carlos. Somehow the building caught on fire, and by the time they realized it, they were surrounded by fire ... with no way out." It looked like it was difficult for Mrs. Ramone to relate to this. She closed her eyes to keep back the tears and didn't go on.

"So they died, along with all the other people in the building. Only one person escaped-someone who was in a different room at the time, and had a way of escape. But there was no way he could help the others, who were all trapped in the main room," Mr. Ramone finished for her. He dropped his hands to his sides and sighed. "Your real mother was her"-he gestured to his wife-"identical twin sister."

"What?" Carlos jumped to his feet and stared in astonishment at his mom. "You mean-you look exactly-like my mom looked?"

Mrs. Ramone smiled through her tears. "And often you couldn't tell us apart either. I remember laughing in pity over you because you honestly thought I was your mother, when you were still a toddler. It made it a lot easier for you to adjust to me being your _real _mom, after we adopted you. But your dad ... you missed him a lot at first." She nodded, looking thoughtful.

Now a series of _new _thoughts and feelings rushed through Carlos' mind and heart. He had first looked at his dad and tried to imagine him as his uncle, while his mother talked. Now he stared and studied Mrs. Ramone until she laughed uncomfortably and told him she would get him some pictures. It amazed him how they had hidden so well the existence of his present-day mother's twin. He had never even _known_ that his mother had been a twin to ... well, his mother! He found it very confusing and rather interesting. For a moment, he forgot his unhappiness of never being told before.

It made him feel better to think he might as well _be _looking at his original mother. Made him feel close to her, somehow. But he felt an unidentified pang in his heart that made him want to throw a fit of unhappiness. He couldn't explain it-all he knew was that he felt like he was, for the first time, missing someone whom he should have known but didn't remember-and it was a strange, uncomfortable feeling. He started feeling restless, too.

But despite that feeling, he sat between his parents with Mikey hovering over them in his little brother fashion and looked with interest at the pictures which they showed him, and the memories they shared and laughed about. He felt relief over the fact that this confrontation hadn't turned out as bad as he had expected. Actually, his parents seemed really eager to finally tell him all about what he didn't know, or didn't remember. And he felt good about it, too.

But there was one thing that bothered him. The thought returned to him after the last picture had been displayed in front of his eyes. He sat back and looked from one parent to the other. "Mom, Dad"-and I wish D.A. had been there to hear him call them that, because I know she would've been thrilled-"I've just got one question."

Mr. Ramone's smile lingered on his face, but he exchanged glances with his wife. "Go ahead, son."

"Why didn't any of you tell me all this before? Why did you keep it from me?" It was something he wanted to understand with all his heart.

There was a long silence as Carlos waited. Finally, Mr. Ramone said something surprising.

"I don't know, son."

"Neither do I, really," Mrs. Ramone chimed in, looking uncertain. "We meant to tell you, sweetie, but after a while it just never came up. We'd forget, think about telling you, then forget again. I know it wasn't right of us, and we're sorry, but please don't think that we purposely kept it away from you."

"Why didn't you tell me when you thought of it?" Carlos persisted.

"Well, you see, it never was a good time to tell you then. For some reason, something always came up and we decided to push it up. Well, we didn't always decide to-we'd _forget._" He looked thoughtfully at his son. "And the reason we forgot was _not_ because we didn't think it necessary, or didn't care about you. Do you know why we kept forgetting, Carlos?"

He shook his head. He didn't have a single idea.

"Why, because we considered you completely part of the family," Mrs. Ramone smiled, putting an arm around him. "And you didn't even feel like a close nephew-but like a son of our flesh and blood. Which you are, pretty much. We'd be family to you whether we would've adopted you or not."

Carlos smiled, too. A warm butterfly had replaced the chilly caterpillar he felt, and suddenly, the pieces of his shattered world drew themselves together again. He was very fortunate, after all ... he could live with family that he had known as long as he had known his real parents. He'd never had to live with strangers. His life was probably a lot easier than other kids who left their families at a later age ... and had to live with some foster parents that they didn't know or had ever seen before.

There was a tender moment in the midst of the family then; a moment when there were hearts and eyes of understanding and contentment ... smiles and tears ... and a radiance of happiness that shone out of each family member's face. An unseen bond of love had drawn the Ramone family closer together.

_Thanks to D.A, _Carlos thought.

...

"D.A?"

The blond head lifted and she looked up to see Carlos looking at her with a grin. She stood up quickly, almost stunned to see the happiness that sparkled on his attractive features. If she hadn't been so relieved to see him looking so bright, she would have felt her heart skipping a beat and would have found herself ignoring the fact that he looked very cute standing there like that.

"Did it ... did you ... " D.A. stammered, hardly daring to believe it.

"Thanks, D.A," Carlos managed to say as he put his arms around her and hugged her close. "You're an awesome friend ... and you were _right._"

And again, if this had been any other time, she would've been shocked to hear those words coming from the guy who never wanted to admit that she was right ... for as long as he could, he would argue with her. Which would result in an everlasting argument. But now it only made sense to hug her best friend and say sweetly, "I'm _always_ right, Carlos."

He laughed and pulled away. She smiled-but it was a smile of relief for her friend, and not triumph over her being right. And I'm glad he noticed that, or else I might have had to write another whole page about their argument.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi again! Sorry about another long wait, but I'd advise you all to expect that of me ... I had a very busy weekend. Anyhow, read, enjoy, review! (each one is optional but appreciated) Also, if it bugs you that I used the word dramatic several times about the same scene, well, it bugs me too, so please overlook it.**

Cha. 12 Wanda's Plan

The entire house was silent. Mom was at her work, William was napping in the living room. Wanda had tip-toed into the living room and switched off the TV so that its blaring wouldn't effect her nerves. But she didn't need to worry; she was a brave little daredevil and she was going to do this ...

She slipped into Mrs. Li Andre's office and closed the door gently behind herself. Hands on her hips, the little Asian girl looked around cautiously. Then she took a deep breath and smiled smugly, inching her way over to the computer.

Her mother would never find this out; she would be at work till supper, and after that, she'd come home tuckered out and drop on the couch as soon as supper dishes were all set away and William had been put to bed. Supper was always around seven. That was typical on a working night. Wanda never complained anymore, because she had gotten used to the fact that her mother didn't take time for anyone but unexpected company if she came home from a day of work.

Now, this was a very simple plan. She had only tried to scare Arnold about helping her, really ... but it reminded her too much of Janet, so she had decided to do it all by herself without any advice. After all, she was pretty smart, and her dad would never guess the difference.

Slipping into the fat office chair, she reached for the mouse. When she tried clicking on her mother's account, she saw it.

A password!

With a groan, Wanda sank back into the chair. Of course-her mom always had a password. It was to keep William from messing with her account, which he used to love doing, before he knew how to handle a computer. He would delete folders and scribble into documents. Once, he had even sent off an email to one of her news-reporting friends by accident! And the receiver had written back very coldly to the email that "didn't make any sense". It had taken Mrs. Li Andre a whole month to regain her friend's trust in her.

With an impatient yawn, Wanda looked at the silver wallclock. She had half an hour before her mom would come home. What was she going to do? Try figuring out the password or just drop it and forget the plan? She pouted. There must be some other way to get her father's attention ... than write an urgent email. She slipped off the office chair slowly and yawned again.

She stopped in the middle of her yawn, which was unpleasant but pleasant in a different way because she had just thought of something else ... she could write it from her own address in her laptop! She could say her mother's computer had crashed or something, and she had to use Wanda's address. Yes, that was it!

_And then I'll write such a frantic email that he'll buy a ticket and fly over here without a second thought, _she decided, a smile lighting up her Asian features. _And once he's here, I'll work out an excuse or something-and we'll spend two weeks of fun together, if he doesn't stay longer. I'll be the girl he wants me to be and so, he won't wanna leave again!_

Without a second thought, and with the decision pressed firmly into her mind, she stole out of the office and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. She was so excited and determined that she didn't think of the consequences or measured things over carefully. All she knew was, her daddy was going to be told that his daughter had but a few weeks to live and he would come back!

_It's about fair, _she reasoned with herself as she pulled out her laptop and flipped it open. She found her list of contacts and clicked her father's name. Dewy Li Andre-a handsome, intelligent man that needed to be reminded of his little daughter. "Let the email begin!" Wanda said dramatically, her eyes black and full of spirit. She started typing ... and didn't stop till she had finished the email before looking it over.

_Dearest Dewy,_

_I'm regretful that I have to write you such bad news, but you need to know this. Poor little Wanda is dying, and she wants you to come see her before she goes. Oh Dewy, please hurry up and come right away, I need you so much. I don't know how I can face this on my own!_

_Wanda has a very high fever, and she's delirious at times right now. She calls for you constantly, but between times I can talk to her and reason with her. The doctors say there's nothing they can do. Dewy, this is killing me; please come and HURRY!_

_With love,_

_Selena_

Wanda read the second sentence over and over again. "Poor little Wanda," she scoffed to her teddy bear. "Doesn't that sound just like a mother to you?" But she was too earnest to laugh over her false information and too desperate to think of how it would effect her poor father. She _had_ written it quite dramatically, but she couldn't help herself. If death was the only thing that would bring her dad back to her and her mother and brother, then death it should be.

"I can't believe how I almost signed my name at the end of the letter," Wanda shivered, after she clicked the _Send_ button. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and put on her headphones.

Half an hour later, William was complaining about when their mother was coming home and Wanda was placing a heated pizza on the table. When Mrs. Li Andre entered, Wanda released an unexpected giggle.

"What's funny?" her mother smiled, dropping a few shopping bags on the floor as she hugged her little son.

Wanda swallowed hard, scolding herself furiously. She couldn't let her mom know anything about this, or she'd be doomed! "Oh, just the look of surprise on your face when you saw how I ... I ... decorated the table!" she finished quickly, praying that it was decorated.

"Decorated the table?" The smile froze on her mother's face and her eyes looked puzzled. "Looks pretty plain to me. Unless you meant it to look pretty, then _yes_, I'm surprised, dear." She put an arm around her daughter and gave her rigid body a squeeze. She drew back and looked into Wanda's struggling face. "What's with the tension?"

"Huh? What? What tension?" Wanda sputtered, then bit her lip hard. This wasn't working out too well.

"Wanda?" Mrs. Li Andre's smile was kind, but her voice was gently urging. "Is there something you should tell me?"

Blood pounded into her face as she stumbled for the next words. She skipped over to her seat and said, "Nope-just hope you like the dessert."

_Uh-oh!_ she realized with horror. _I didn't MAKE any dessert!_ Her palms started to sweat as she smiled deceitfully at her mother.

Mrs. Li Andre's face lit up. "What a surprise that's gonna be," she said, sounding excited.

_What a surprise,_ Wanda agreed, feeling rather terrible. _What a cruel, cruel surprise._

Supper carried through just fine. Wanda's mother was almost too hungry to talk much, which was a relief. Wanda didn't trust herself to speak; she found that for the first time she was a weaselly wimp.

Then it was time for dessert. Mrs. Li Andre wiped her mouth with a napkin and told William to eat what was left on his plate before he could have dessert. Then she turned to Wanda, who was cringing inwardly to the depths of her soul. _What are we gonna do, what are we gonna do, what are we-_

"Well, what are we gonna do?" Mrs. Li Andre laughed.

Wanda jumped. Had Mom read her mind? She stared at her in disbelief.

"You were shaping your favorite panic phrase with your lips," she explained with a twinkle in her eye. "Don't worry, I'll love whatever you made, because it's what _you_-"

The phone rang right then, draining all the perspiration from Wanda's face in one sudden motion. She gasped quietly in relief, sinking back in her chair. Maybe while her mom phoned, she could quickly make something!

"I'll get it," Mrs. Li Andre said, picking up the phone. "Hello, Li Andre residence, Selena speaking."

Wanda got up and dashed past her mother into the kitchen, where she looked around frantically for the recipe book. She didn't get far, however, when she heard something that stopped her cold.

"Dewy? Is that you?" Mrs. Li Andre exclaimed in the dining room.

"Wanda!" William shouted happily. "It's Daddy!"

_Dad!_ Wanda wanted to scream. She wanted to disappear! _What kind of a mess have I gotten myself into this time? _she groaned inwardly, not daring to move from her position. So she listened carefully to the remainder of the conversation, helpless to do anything else.

"Wanda? Oh ... she's fine ... yes, completely! Are you alright?" Her mother sounded confused, and Wanda sank down against the refrigerator, burying her face in her hands. "Dying? Dewy, what? ... no ... I'm desperate? She's delirious? Dewy, what are you talking about?"

Her life was finished. Wanda yielded herself to the grave that looked very comfortable at this moment.

"I didn't," poor Mrs. Li Andre insisted, sounding shocked. "A letter? Dewy, what's going on here? ... It was signed off with my name? Well, I'll be-listen. I'll talk to Wanda, alright? I get the feeling she might be the only one that knows what this is all about ... I know, me too, and that's why we have to straighten this out ... Dewy, please lower your voice a little!"

Wanda couldn't keep back the tears. They streamed down her cheeks and soaked into her hands. Oh, _what_ had she done? What was she thinking? Oh, right-she hadn't been thinking at all-like usual. Wanda felt a bitter shame and anger toward herself, wishing ... _dying_ to take back the letter she had written. _Dad must have gone hysterical! _she thought unhappily.

She cringed at the sad tone she heard in her mother's voice when she spoke again.

"Wanda, what did you do? Honey ... he was very upset."

Wanda didn't budge. Her mother came into the kitchen, holding the phone in her hands. She actually looked stern despite the sadness, and that wavered Wanda's courage. But she parted her lips to mutter, "I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, indeed, you weren't. What did you mean by upsetting your father like that?" Mrs. Li Andre's voice rose. "Didn't you think of how much it would hurt him to have you die?"

"But I wasn't _planning_ to die!" Wanda wailed, looking up pleadingly.

"Then why did you write that e-mail?" Mrs. Li Andre asked quietly.

Wanda felt her lip quiver, and she tightened it. Without looking at her mother's blurry form, she got up and ran past her up the stairs. "I'm sorry, okay?" she sobbed as she threw open her bedroom door and pounced on her bed. Then she grabbed a pillow and cried into it.

She couldn't understand her sudden impulse of emotion. It came-wouldn't be stopped-and it just _came_. A torrent of tears ... for what? Wanting her dad's attention? No. _It's because I'm so ashamed of how I treated him, _she thought miserably. _If I would've had a little BRAIN to use, I might have even thought of Dad having our phone number. But no, of course I didn't think of it!_

Mrs. Li Andre had wanted to know what was bothering her daughter, what had possessed her to do such a thing; but Wanda couldn't get herself to say. It seemed ridiculous to tell her mother that she wanted her dad, and therefore she had written such a stupid e-mail and worked up a fright. No, she _wouldn't _tell her mom. She didn't see any use in it anyway-her dad wouldn't want to see her after this. He would be much too angry with her; her mother had asked him to lower his voice! He had never raised his voice to Wanda before, and she felt that he had this time, because what he said was certainly directed toward her.

"She says she's sorry," Mrs. Li Andre was saying helplessly downstairs. "Look, I'm sure she had a reason for-Dewy Li Andre, could you keep it down? If you keep yelling you'll wake William! ... No, I know you sound much quieter through the phone than you really are, but for goodness' sake-okay, that's it. You have to work it out with your daughter. I don't want to be in the middle of this, so you will have to talk to her yourself ... no, Dewy. Good-night!"

Wanda heard the crash of the phone in its cradle and involuntarily, a shudder passed through her body. Her mom was mad, too. But she wasn't sure at who. She gripped her pillow tighter and was relieved to death that she had locked her bedroom door.

...

Friday morning was more dreary than usual. Wanda lagged to school, feeling grumpy and tired. She had woken up constantly last night, in between horrible dreams. What they were about she wouldn't say, but they seasoned her day with a sour flavor. Pheobe tried to cheer her up first thing in the morning.

"Oh, Wanda, I hate to see you so down," she said compassionately. "I'm so sorry your plan didn't work. Really, Wanda."

"It's okay," Wanda mumbled, rummaging through her purse and standing close to her locker door.

Worry was evident in Pheobe's eyes. "But, you know that you have someone to talk to, don't you?" She hesitated. "Like me?"

Wanda turned to face her friend and forced a smile across her pouting face. "I know. Thanks, Pheeb."

Just then, Keesha came strutting by. "Hello, people," she said in her friendly way. She peered over Wanda's shoulder. "What's that?"

Wanda had printed out the e-mail she had written to her dad and it was lying folded in her hand. She meant to show it to Pheobe and Arnold so that they somehow could share her humiliation, but Keesha seemed the most interested in it so far. With a careless sigh, she gave it to Keesha.

After Keesha unfolded it and read it she looked up at Wanda, wide-eyed, before she burst out laughing. Pheobe looked horrified, and glanced worriedly at Wanda, to see how she's react.

Strangely enough, Wanda's heart lightened. She looked at Keesha for a few seconds, then a grin spread across her face. "May I see that?" she asked, peering over Keesha's shoulder this time. It _did_ sound sort of dramatic, the way she had written the whole thing.

"Oh, Wanda!" Keesha laughed, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "You're so sweet! What would we do without you, girl? I just _love_ you!"

Wanda giggled. She couldn't help it. And suddenly, she felt better. It really wasn't such a big deal. Sure, she had scared her dad nearly to wits' end, but he was probably only grumbling over it now, maybe even chuckling a bit over her urgent, dramatic pleadings. And there would be another way. She had the feeling there would.


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay guys, I know we haven't heard from Ms. Frizzle lately, and in case you feel the same way, I kinda miss her too. She'll be coming into the picture real SOON. :)**

**P.s. Thanks a lot for the reviews ... I've gathered fresh determination to finish my story, and I **_**will do it.**_** :D (unless something prevents me from it)**

Cha. 13 Chaos in the Cafeteria

"Hey, you guys!" came a cheerful yell from the other end of the hall. Keesha, Pheobe and Wanda turned around-Carlos was running toward them with D.A. at his heels.

"It seems like those two have been stickers ever since school started," Keesha whispered to Pheobe. The auburn-haired girl nodded, looking thoughtful.

"What's up?" Wanda looked brightly at Carlos and D.A. "Having a good morning, like me?"

"You've been having a good morning?" Pheobe whispered, looking confused. "But I thought ... "

"Yep!" Carlos' locker was right next to Wanda's and he was throwing the door open now, throwing his backpack inside.

D.A. stepped forward, looking pleasantly surprised. "Hold on a minute-Carlos, do you have any brain?" she snapped. "Don't you see it?"

"See what?" He looked baffled as he glanced up and down the hallway. "Oh, right, I see the invisible thing!" he joked, looking sincere.

D.A. grabbed his arm and jerked it. "Oh come on, birdbrain! _All _of us are having a better morning. Even Ralphie is coming, looking his merry self."

"He is?" Keesha asked in a panicked voice, not daring to turn around and investigate. "Oh, you should have told me sooner! Is there time to hide?" She whimpered. "I _hate_ being around that thief!"

"As much as I hate being a so-called thief!" Ralphie said merrily, grabbing her hand and turning her around to face him. "Look, Keesha, I-"

Keesha pulled away and hardened her heart. "Ralphie, I thought I didn't even want to _see_ you again ... ?"

"Keesha, give him a-" Pheobe began patiently, but Keesha cut in quickly.

"Prove you didn't steal them, Ralphie!" she seethed. "Just prove it! And I'll believe you. Oh my word, am I late for homeroom?" With that, she sauntered off, looking as in control of her beliefs as ever.

But Ralphie's countenance was still shining. Wanda studied him carefully, then blurted, "Why are you looking like that?"

"Looking like what?" Ralphie asked, still grinning.

"You're happy about something," Carlos pointed out. An impish smile suddenly slid across his face as another thought entered his mind, and D.A. slapped a hand over his mouth quickly. One stupid joke was enough, even though she hadn't heard one for what seemed like ages. She looked stern, but there was a merry sparkle in her eyes that everyone noticed but Carlos.

"Me, happy?" Ralphie pretended to pout. "What's to be happy about?"

"Oh, come on!" Wanda shouted, rushing up to him, clenching fists. "Tell me or I'll-"

"Okay, okay!" A flicker of fear sprinted through Ralphie's eyes, and he backed away with a little laugh. "It's like this. I think I'm actually gonna track down the thief today!"

The kids stared at him. "Uh-huh," they said slowly in unision.

"Yeah, it's like this. Thanks to D.A, I've got a pretty good idea who the first person is. Okay, there were two people, right? Two people at Keesha's locker. And-"

The final bell was ringing. A look of alarm crossed Pheobe's face. "Oh, I've never been late for classes!" she cried, grabbing Keesha's arm. "Let's go!"

"Wait!" Ralphie cried, looking forsaken and rejected. "I wasn't finished telling you my story!"

"Save it for dessert," Wanda yelled, running away.

...

Arnold wasn't comfortable. _Okay, when is the last time I was completely at ease? _he wondered as he watched his cousin pace up and down the floor. It was monotonous-and horrifying at the same time-to be the only cousin of prissy Janet Perlstein. Suddenly, Janet came running toward him and gripped his arm.

"It's her-Tiffany," she hissed.

"What's wrong with Tiffany?" Arnold asked without enthusiasm, reaching for his sandwich. "She's my friend, you know."

"Friend?" Janet squealed. "Arnold, you call her your _friend?_ I've gotta admit, you've got _some_ spunk in you." She glared at him and sat down in her chair.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Arnold sighed. "And please hurry, Janet; I wanna eat lunch with my other friends today." He nibbled on his sandwich again.

Janet rolled her eyes. "Arnold, don't you remember what Tiffany did to me, back when we were in elementary school?"

"Nooo. But that was a long time ago."

"Sure! But it still hurts me," Janet's voice quivered expertly and she smiled inwardly. "She's never apologized for it. Remember how she dumped my mascara all over the bathroom floor?"

"No; just because I was in a girl's bathroom once in Elementary School doesn't mean I go there constantly," Arnold replied sarcastically.

"Arnold, listen! I tried to pay her back once, but it never worked. The tomato can _wouldn't open!"_ Janet sighed. "So now that I'm back, and Tiffany's still in school, it's time I returned the boomerang. Nobody picks on Janet!"

"And Janet picks on everybody," Arnold mumbled, turning away. He felt cold fingers on his arm and turned to see four sparkling purple nails pressed into his skin.

"What did you say?" Janet threatened.

"Uh ... nothing," Arnold stammered, backing away. "Listen, Janet, can we do this another time? The other guys want me to hurry, and you're not making time go any faster."

Janet stood up and placed her hands on her hips-a typical Janet-in-charge posture of hers. Her eyes flashed-with a plan, or with annoyance, Arnold couldn't tell. "Alright, Arnold," she said prissy-like, "you're off the hook. For now. But I need your help later on. Promise you're gonna help me out?"

"With dumping tomato juice all over Tiffany's cute sweater?" Arnold protested, scratching the curls behind his head. "I can't-do that. She'd never-_ever_-forgive me."

"Okay," Janet suddenly relented, but not without a huge grin on her face. "You don't have to do _anything_."

Arnold didn't like the look on her face, but he was relieved to get out of his cousin's presence. He slid away from the table and picked up his tray. "Catch you later," he said politely, although he hoped desperately it wouldn't happen. She had been ruining every day of school so far-for him. When he looked over at the cafeteria table where the rest of his friends were chatting and laughing together, he wondered why he had to be the unlucky kid-again. Ms. Frizzle had always picked him for the scariest adventures, and he sourly decided to add _that_ to his list of complaints.

But if we step aside a little from the topic here, deep down in his heart, Arnold missed his favorite teacher. Yes, she was his favorite, despite the fact that he had denied it so often and grumbled about wishing for a normal teacher. When was the last time Ms. Frizzle had taken them on a wild adventure? Or when was the last time she had worked up a crazy scheme for them to solve? How he actually missed her!

"Hey, Arnold!" Wanda shouted, waving him over.

Arnold brightened at the sight of Wanda's high-spirited grin and the careless posture in which she was sitting. That could only mean one thing.

"Your plan worked!" he gasped as he slid in across from her, next to Carlos. "Wanda! I can't actually believe one of your crazy ideas actually-"

"Hold it right there, Arnold," Keesha held up her hand for silence. "Wait a minute-back up-save your breath! It _didn't_ work."

"Oh," Arnold's face fell and he looked truly sympathetic as he looked at his best friend. "I'm really sorry, Wanda."

"Hey, it's okay!" Wanda bubbled, poking a plastic straw into her strawberry milkshake. "I'll come up with something else. You remember when we were constructing bridges in our bathroom, some years ago? Didn't I try out anything?"

D.A., Tim, Arnold, Carlos, Pheobe, and Keesha cringed. They knew very well; Wanda was their little adorable daredevil.

"So," Wanda said with a huge grin, "I'm gonna get my dad over here and he won't be sorry!"

But nobody knew how much she was concealing her true emotions. The feeling of "feeling better" that morning had passed-she was living in doubt and fear again. She wondered if her dad would ever bother to see her again after this.

"I'm sure even a few hours with a person like you would do him good," D.A. commented with a smile.

"Uh-oh," Keesha muttered, "there comes Ral-thief. I'm outa here." Before anyone could protest, she was up and gone.

The look on Ralphie's face wasn't exactly merry now. He had noticed Keesha's departure, which darkened his expression more than ever. He had left his other group of friends and came sitting down at their table, looking sullen.

"Ralphie, if it tortures you to be here, then why are you here?" Tim asked.

"Janet didn't do it," he stated flatly.

"Dude, Janet says whatever comes to her mind!" Carlos protested. "Did it ever occur to you that she might have lied in your face?"

"The only person she ever lies to is me," Arnold grumbled.

Ralphie didn't say anything for a long time. Suddenly he looked up and said timidly, "Do you ... do you know how much I like baseball cards?"

Nobody answered, either because they hadn't heard, or because it was a curious question. Of course Ralphie liked baseball cards. He always had; what did he mean by "do you know how much"? Arnold, like almost everyone else, felt a little doubt inching upward to his mind. Maybe ... Ralphie ... _had_ ...

"We know, Ralphie," Wanda said slowly.

"Yeah. So ... you're still not going to think I stole them?"

He seemed very uncomfortable and awkward. Each of his friends took it as some sort of sign and looked uncertainly at each other. "Ralphie, you know how the whole story goes," D.A. began hesitantly. "But-"

"D.A, I thought you believed me," Ralphie interupted, his voice sounding hurt.

"I want to!" D.A. burst out, spreading out her hands. "It's so easy to believe you, Ralphie, really! It's just that-"

"It just _kind of _points at you, that's all," Janet's voice was heard above D.A.'s. She glared at Ralphie. "You're not that good at deceiving your friends after all, are you? Keesha's got _some_ sense," she scoffed, before sailing out of their atmosphere again.

An angry flush entered Ralphie's cheeks. He stood up very abruptly. "Well, if you guys won't-" he started to raise his voice, but Pheobe stopped him quickly.

"No, Ralphie, don't get the wrong idea!" she pleaded. "And please don't take Janet seriously. She's not taking Keesha's side-all she wants is a fight."

"And Ralphie," D.A. began, her voice full of repentence, "I wasn't going to say what Janet said. I-I only wished-"

"You only wished all your friends would believe me, too, so you wouldn't have to be the only one?" Ralphie demanded angrily, folding his arms. "After all, one person believing me doesn't sound very convincing, _does_ it? And you can't think how much I need at least _one_ friend at the moment! Well, you guys are nuts. And I'm not kidding."

He wasn't. His voice was deadly serious.

"I'm not hanging out with _any_of you from now on," he raged on. He didn't see the look of astonishment on Carlos' face. When Ralphie got mad, he carried out the entire plan and sprinkled cheese on the whole pizza. "And I thought you guys were my friends! Well, I've got a much cooler group now."

"Jimmy Malone and his buddies?" Pheobe gasped, quite frightened at the idea of Ralphie hanging out with that rough gang. "Ralphie, you can't! I hear they've been involved in all kinds of-"

"Save your breath, Pheobe," Ralphie interrupted, giving her a contemptous look. "Here you guys don't have any faith in me, and double your mistake by thinking I can't handle a harmless group of friends that I made in the past few days, when none of _you_ wanted anything to do with me!"

He shouted the last words, and all at once they heard a loud screech from the cafeteria kitchen. The red light-somebody had been too loud. The whole cafeteria lapsed into annoyed silence, but Ralphie didn't look at all embarrassed. He merely stomped back to his other group and they all started whispering together. By the dirty looks sent to the Magic School Bus kids, as their teacher Ms. Frizzle adoringly called them, their discussion wasn't necessarily something pleasant.

Carlos refused to look to their table. When he did, Ralphie was never glaring at him, but he felt the hatred just the same. And it didn't make sense, because he had done all he could to clear his friend's name at one time, and had never voiced any doubt as to whether Ralphie did it or not. _Maybe it's what I DIDN'T do that made him think I doubted, _he thought. _I should have been the first to speak ... then, none of this would've happened._


	14. Chapter 14

**I've decided we need more of Tim's POV, so I've done it. Btw, who are your favorite characters from MSB? :) **

Cha. 14 Arnold's Catastrophe

Tim walked along the school hallway after school, deep in thought. His thoughts weren't on sketching and art right then; he was thinking about his friends. And no, not as in their expressions at a certain artistic moment ... he was thinking about how they had all seemed to change, and yet through that change, become more like themselves than ever. Well, that didn't make much sense.

But Tim knew that Ms. Frizzle was right when she had said very solemnly: "A virus needs to be controlled immediately." Virus might be a funny word, but it was a real word with a meaning that spoke loudly as soon as the kids figured out what their teacher was talking about. But the problem was, viruses hadn't been controlled and now there was an outbreak of kids that were freezing up.

Fortunately, Carlos and D.A. were happy again. Tim was relieved about that. Even Wanda seemed happy, and Pheobe a little less concerned over her friend. In a good way. But Keesha and Ralphie ... Tim sighed. _When_were they going to work out the issues between them? Why couldn't one of them-namely Keesha-stop to listen to the other side of the story? Maybe Ralphie w_as_ innocent; it was the easiest thing to believe.

But ... baseball cards ... ? Then ... ? _What if he did take them?_Tim pushed the doubts aside. Ralphie seemed too innocent to be blamed for doing such a thing to Keesha, no matter how many times the friends argued. That was what made them _friends._ They were never bored of each other this way. And yet ...

Tim knew regretfully in his heart that after how Ralphie had squirmed in the cafeteria today, he would never be able to trust him one-hundred-percent about being innocent. He was furious with himself, but there was something in Ralphie's change of behavior that made the doubts arise like little weeds-small, but quick. Maybe he didn't exactly take them ... maybe someone else took them _for _him!

The brilliant idea lit upon Tim like a spray of fireworks in a dark sky. He turned around and scanned the hallway ... and then another thought came to his mind. If he asked Ralphie such a question, it would be likely for the latter to fire up and storm off-without giving him an honest answer. He wouldn't realize how badly Tim _wanted_ to believe him-like all of his friends did.

"Poor Ralphie," someone said softly next to him. Tim turned around and saw Pheobe there with a sympathetic look on her face. Why did she have to bring that subject up? It was very exhausting.

"And poor us," Tim replied, closing his locker door. "We don't have proof from either side of the story. We can't prove Ralphie stole those baseball cards, and we can't prove that he didn't. And look how hard we're trying to make this right!"

"I know, Tim," Pheobe sighed, tucking her auburn tresses behind her ear.

Tim leaned against his locker and studied his friend. "In the end, Pheobe, don't you think Keesha and Ralphie will have to work it out themselves? Nobody is taking any sides, and they should know that by now."

"What would Ms. Frizzle do?" Pheobe wondered, thinking of their bright and busy teacher who was preparing another field trip to them without their knowledge of it.

"I don't know. But at a time like this, I think we should just leave those two alone; if they want advice, give it. But ... " Tim trailed off. He stared at someone across the hallway. "Pheobe, isn't that Arnold with Tiffany?"

"Yeah," Pheobe agreed after she turned to investigate. "I wonder what's going on."

On the other side of the hallway, Arnold was going up to Janet's locker with an open tomato juice can in hand. Some kids snickered when they saw what he had in his hand, but he tried to ignore it. The only way he had escaped Janet was by agreeing to bring this open can of tomato juice to her locker, since he wouldn't comply with her plan. It was a clever escape, or so he thought, since Janet didn't need him anymore today. It was really a short-lived rapture, but he didn't suppose it was. _My pesky cousin isn't as smart as she thinks she is,_ Arnold thought scornfully, even grinning as he neared his locker door.

And that's when it happened. Tiffany Chamber came around the corner, wearing a bright smile on her face. She came right up to Arnold. "Hi Arnold," she said sweetly, "you wanted to see me?"

"Uh, sure?" Arnold stammered, looking at her stylish sweater. "That looks cute."

Tiffany giggled. "Thanks. It's-"

_Splash!_ Arnold felt his arm jerk forward-the arm that held the open can of tomato juice-and he watched in horror as the tomato juice splashed over Tiffany's sweater-not just her sweater, also her face! It dripped down to her jeans in fat red drops that looked like blood, and soaked into her white shoes.

Arnold, who was horrified at the turn of events, just stood there with his mouth hanging open for a few moments. Tiffany, on the other hand, looked at him in disbelief and furor.

"Arnold!" she screamed, stepping right up to his face with clenched fists at her sides. "You did this on purpose!"

"No, Tiffany,I-"

" You wanted to ruin my new sweater, and-and-everything else I'm wearing!" Tears of rage stood out of the blue eyes of her juice-splattered face. "How _could_ you do this to me?" she wailed, but didn't run away. She just tormented Arnold by the hideous sight of her covered in red juice and yellow seeds, challenging him to answer her question.

"I-I-I don't know!" Arnold gasped, stepping backward and looking pale. "I-I didn't mean to, Tiffany, _honest!_ It was ... " Suddenly, he knew. Spinning around and ready to scream if it were true ... Arnold found that it wasn't. If Janet had been there-and he knew she had been, because he had felt a quick push against his elbow from behind-she was gone now. He couldn't even see her in the crowd.

"Didn't mean to?" Tiffany sobbed, turning to go. "You _did _mean to_,_ you idiot!_"_

Arnold hated being called an idiot. He grabbed her arm. "No, Tiff!" he cried. "It was Janet! My cousin, remember? She-she pushed me!"

Tiffany looked at him coldly, then looked beyond him to the empty hallway. Everyone else had gone to their classes. It seemed quite impossible that Janet had been there moments ago. She looked back at Arnold. "Your cousin?" she repeated sarcastically, wiping red tears from her dripping cheeks. "Yeah right. You blame everything on Janet just because she's a jerk, don't you?" With that, she spun around and dashed through an opening maze of gaping students.

Arnold watched her go with a cold, sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach. Once again, he turned around helplessly, groping for some proof that it had been Janet ... but she had done her job well. There wasn't a single red curl or wicked eye in sight!

He hardly noticed Tim and Pheobe run up to him. "What was that all about?" Tim exclaimed, and Pheobe looked tremendously worried. She never felt at rest these days, because her dear friends were doing one thing and then another!

"I ... dumped ... tomato juice ... on ... Tiffany," Arnold responded feebly, looking bewildered. "But I didn't do it."

"At any other time, Arnold, we would roll our eyes and say you were contradicting yourself," Tim said confidently, "but we saw everything. Arnold, let's chat, okay?"

"Yes, Tim, that's brilliant," Pheobe said, backing away with a little smile. "Please do."

Tim smiled and waved, then turned back to Arnold. "So?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

Tim nodded and led the way out of the school doors and into the bus. There they sat down near the back of the bus and Tim began his lecture by saying, "Arnold, who do you think you are?"

"Uh ... Arnold Perlstein?"

"Then you're correct," Tim said firmly, not putting the answer to waste. "And who does Arnold Perlstein think he is?"

"The only child of Luke and Rebekah Perlstein, nerd of the class, and object of torture to his cousin," Arnold replied mechanically. "Don't be surprised at my forwardness. I've quoted this statement a million times before."

"Now we're getting somewhere." Tim's dark eyes shone for a moment; with pleasure or with an artistic thought, Arnold didn't know. But he did know Tim's head was full of stuff he never dreamed of.

"Do you know that you don't _have_ to be the object of torture to your cousin?"

That was one of the things he had never dreamed of. "No," Arnold replied bluntly. "I don't."

"Well, I can explain it to you." Tim seemed to be enjoying every moment. "See, your cousin wants to be cool. She wants to control someone, to show how 'great' she is. Now, since you're a person that's easily convinced or intimidated, and her cousin, too-she picks on you. She's used to fooling you into making trouble for yourself, and you're used to being fooled into doing these things. See what I mean? It's serious stuff."

Arnold nodded, his eyes wide. Just then, the redheaded girl in front of them turned around with laughing eyes. "Try telling him anything," she sneered. "Arnold's way too smart for you, Tim. Right, Arnold?"

"Uh ... I ... " Arnold stammered involuntarily-it was a habit that he knew Janet rejoiced in.

"Good! Now shut up, Tim"-she flashed him a sudden threatening glare as she stood up to leave-"and draw another picture of me in your sketchbook. Let's see how much you improve. The last sketch you did of me was terrible, and I can't see how anyone would think you're an artist!"

After she left the bus, Tim chuckled quietly. He had wanted to get his irritated feelings down on paper, so he had drawn a careless and insulting sketch of Janet and accidentally showed it to her. Janet hadn't forgiven him, but it made him laugh that she actually thought he couldn't draw better than that.

"So where were we?" Arnold asked timidly, then smacked his head. "I'm such an idiot! I should've refused to agree with Janet. Of course, I didn't, but she thinks I did. Why can't I defend myself?"

"That's what you have to learn, Arnold," Tim said firmly. "If you let yourself be controlled-by a girl, nonetheless-you'll earn yourself a poor reputation. Plus, nobody likes being controlled, and neither do you. So you need to break free from it. The next time Janet tries fooling you into doing something, remember what I told you." Tim was in earnest.

Arnold looked fearful. "But ... but I'll forget," he protested. "I always forget what I'm suppose to know the minute I need to remember!"

Tim inched backward, looking puzzled. "Whoa, slow down, Arnold."

Arnold sighed and smoothed his polo shirt. "Tim, I really appreciate you trying to help me. But when the time comes, I'll forget everything you just said. I'll be a chicken and a coward and a ... well, a weaselly wimp, as Wanda would call it." He looked discouraged. "It's just no use. I can't remember what to do because I-I chicken out!"

"You're not a coward, Arnold, and you're not a chicken. And you're not a ... well, a weaselly wimp, as Wanda would call it." Tim grinned.

"But I forget, because I'm scared," Arnold sighed again. "Janet is very convincing with whatever she says, Tim. There's hardly getting around her."

"But you will," Tim said simply, taking the pen off his right ear with another confident grin.

"How do you know that?"

Tim wordlessly wrote NO, JANET in bold blue letters right in the palm of Arnold's right hand. He took his sweet time, and by the time he finished, Arnold's face had cleared.

"Ooohhh, I get it," he said, brightening. "Whenever Janet tries to get me to do something stupid, I reach my hand up to my hair and say 'I ... uh ...'. But this time, I'll see 'No, Janet' before I can scratch my head. So I'll remember not to do it!" Arnold said happily.

"Yeah, that works for me," Tim laughed, sticking the pen back over his ear. "And whenever it starts fading off, you pen it in your hand again, in bold, dark letters. You'll learn to say no to your deceitful cousin and eventually she'll get used to it and who knows, you might end up being decent cousins."

Arnold smiled as he got up and reached for his backpack. "Thanks for the encouragement, Tim. I won't forget to rewrite that stuff on my hand after I bathe."

Tim rolled his eyes. "You'd better not. Or I'll do it for you at school tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday!" Arnold corrected merrily.

"Bummer."


	15. Chapter 15

**Thx for the reviews; I'm sorry I couldn't upload my story sooner, but I'm still writing the chapters, so it takes a little longer... hope you like it and don't give up on me. The whole thing's going to be on here sometime!**

Cha. 15 In the Park

Twilight was beginning to stretch like a beautiful dark blue blanket over the world. When Carlos looked out the window of the dining room during supper, city lights were glittering and glowing everywhere. He hurried through his meal with a determination to spend the last few hours of the day out-of-doors.

Mrs. Ramone entered the room with her dark eyebrows raised and a pursed smile on her face, her cheeks glowing pink in the dining room light. She was carrying the dessert, a Ramone favorite-vanilla ice cream with chocolate cookie crumbs. Setting it down in the center of the table, she looked at her husband. "I hope you haven't stuffed yourself before dessert like usual."

Mr. Ramone pulled out her chair with a chuckle. "I thought you forbade me to do that. Oh come on, I never look at what's ahead of me-I enjoy the present time!"

Mikey looked up and flicked his dark hair. "Well, present time is still here, Dad!"

The family laughed and began to eat the dessert. Carlos looked from one parent to the other. He had a question in mind-about his deceased parents. Suddenly, he didn't feel uncomfortable about talking about them. After all, the Ramones were very close with his parents when they were still around. Maybe they even felt good about being able to talk about them in his hearing.

"Hey, Dad?" Carlos looked at his uncle and father from across the table. "Umm, what was my _real_ surname, if my mom and my other mom"-he laughed a bit-"were twins?" He was surprised at how lightly he could talk about this. It gave him a warm feeling.

Mr. Ramone looked at his wife, the turned to his son and nephew. "Your father was a Mendez, also Hispanic. We changed your name to Carlos Mendez Ramone."

"I always wondered why my second name was Mendez," Carlos shrugged.

"I still don't understand, Carlos," his mother shook her head. "How didn't you recognize me when you saw the pictures about your real parents? I look almost exactly like your real mother. Close enough to be called identical! Although no two people are completely the same, but ... ?" Mrs. Ramone stopped to catch her breath.

"I think I did," Carlos replied slowly. "Maybe that's what made me so afraid-maybe I was wondering if you"-he looked at his father-"weren't my real dad."

"Well, you won't call me Uncle Gene, now, will you?" Mr. Ramone chuckled. "Although I did put the 'Gene' in genius, I think."

Carlos grinned.

"And I know I'm your Aunt Soapie, but," Mrs. Ramone began, her eyes twinkling. She was known for her cleanliness, and she though her lame joke was a lot better than her husband's, who really wasn't the genius he thought he was. But Mikey would argue with that, because he wouldn't know where he had inherited his intelligence from-and might decide he was also adopted! Not wanting these results, she didn't say anything more.

"No, you guys are my parents," Carlos said brightly, picking up his spoon. "My parents by law. You took me in and I'll be thankful for that as long as I live."

Mrs. Ramone couldn't keep from slipping out of her chair and putting her arms around her son adoringly. "Yes, and you'll always be our son, no matter what happens."

"Yeah, I know that," Carlos laughed.

His mother looked a little baffled at his reaction.

"Sorry, Mom, it's just that Mikey was looking all smart and sarcastic, and I had to keep my dignity," Carlos explained.

"I can say something funny about dignity," Mr. Ramone said triumphantly.

"No, you can't, honey," Mrs. Ramone smiled as she walked over to him. "You always think you're funny ... but you're not."

Her husband looked shocked. He obviously had never considered that before.

"But that's why I love you," Mrs. Ramone added, taking his face in both of her hands and drawing in for a kiss.

Mikey and Carlos had been snickering for a while, but now they looked petrified. They left the dining room as fast as they could, complaining very audibly. Mikey turned to his brother, wide-eyed.

"I bet you can't say something funny about Mom and Dad right now?"

Carlos looked at his little brother and shuddered. "Of course not. It would have to be a dirty joke."

"So? Anything to stop them, right?"

...

After supper, Carlos went outside to the park for some soccer practice by himself. Lamp lights glowed all around the place and made it an ideal spot to practice during the evening. He had been kicking his soccer ball for quite some time when he looked up and saw Ralphie sitting on a bench beside a park lamp. Surprised, he gave one last kick between the two trees that served as a goal post. It went in.

Carlos ran over to his friend, who was very absorbed in something. Ralphie didn't even notice him approaching. Wondering what could distract him so much, Carlos sat down next to him and saw he was texting.

Ralphie looked at him and jumped involuntarily. "Carlos!"

"Now you see me," Carlos grinned, then motioned toward his cell. "Who you texting?"

"Uhh, nobody?" Ralphie stammered, quickly pocketing his cellular. He didn't look at ease-in fact, he _never_ looked at ease anymore.

"What's going on, Ralph?" Carlos asked, shaking his head. "You got me all puzzled. It's not ... let's just say, it's not like you anymore?"

"No, it isn't, is it, Carlos?" Ralphie smiled. "Thanks, buddy."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you notice? I'm not the Ralphie from the MSB gang. I'm in the Malone mess now. Jimmy's the coolest guy. And we do the coolest stuff." He turned to face Carlos. "We hang out with a couple other kids, and make the biggest messes you've ever seen." He laughed. "Did you see how all the trashcans on this street were over-turned and emptied, with trash all around on the sidewalks? Nobody's gonna suspect me to be a part of that. And we painted pictures on the back of the school wall!"

"Ralphie, you're so gonna get it!" Carlos exclaimed, looking at his friend in disbelief. "I know we guys sometimes did fun stuff and pulled pranks, but this is bad, man. You'll get in trouble."

"And who are you to care?" Ralphie replied easily, slouching on the bench. "You should really join us. You're the only person I ever said anything good about to Jimmy. He thinks pretty much of you, actually; he might try making friends with you sometime."

Carlos shook his head. "You might like Jimmy, but I don't think much about him."

"Dude, don't pass it up." He nudged his friend. "If he asks you to join our gang you will, won't you?"

"Ralphie, what is it that you like about this gang?" Carlos demanded, looking him in the eyes. "Like, for real."

"That's simple. I'm actually somebody when I'm with Jimmy."

Carlos rolled his eyes. "Well, you're always somebody. Don't you get it? You've always played a very important role in our lives."

"And by our lives you mean?" Ralphie wasn't convinced.

"I mean to me, Arnold, D.A, Keesha, Tim, Wanda, and Pheobe!" Carlos blurted out, spreading out his hands. "It was always the eight of us, remember?"

"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," Ralphie replied, his eyes shining with a determined light in them. "But it's not like that anymore. Recently, I've become this thief that nobody trusts. Everyone else takes Keesha's side, so I don't have any use for 'everyone else'. I mean, honestly ... how would you like to be friends with people that ... that aren't there for you when you need them the most?"

"Dude, I'd hate that." There was a regretful look on Carlos' face. He knew what Ralphie meant. "Guess I haven't been there for you, have I. I'm ... I'm sorry."

Ralphie paused and looked at his friend. His tone changed. "Not _you,_ Carlos. I know you would have stuck up for me no matter what if you had been yourself the last while."

"You mean ... what I went through because I'm ... adopted?" Carlos ventured.

"And I don't blame you for not concentrating on what was happening in my life," Ralphie laughed, poising his baseball cap sideways. "Don't worry about it, dude. We're cool. It's Keesha ... and now it's the others, too. Even D.A, whom I thought had at least a _little_ faith in me."

"I'm sorry," Carlos repeated. "If they just knew, they'd be so embarrassed about not trusting you, Ralphie. And they'd do anything to make it up to you."

"I know," Ralphie sighed. "Why can't they see their mistakes already? I can tell them I didn't steal Keesha's cards s many times as I want to, and it would only make matters worse. They'd think I was desperate in covering up my faults."

"So, how do you know Jimmy Malone and his buddies wouldn't do the same thing to you if you looked like a culprit?" Carlos asked slowly.

Ralphie looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, I don't know ... I guess. But I'd rather try somewhere else than pretend I was still on good terms with my other friends that don't believe in me."

"Maybe I could convince them," Carlos insisted, groping for a reason that Ralphie shouldn't give up. "You heard me making an impressive speech about keeping the old pond in Walkerville a few years ago, didn't you?" He smiled.

"Sure, Carlos-you had _proof_ that it was the wise thing to do. But you don't have any proof that I didn't steal. Do you?"

"I can remind them about what a trustworthy friend you are and pretty-talk them into believing me," Carlos defended. "I'll write several paragraphs and memorize them if you'll let me!"

Ralphie smiled at his friend in appreciation. "You're a true friend, Carlos. There's no denying that ... but I honestly think it wouldn't do any good. As long as those guys have their attitudes turned toward me-and Keesha's really good at keeping them on her level of opinion-they won't listen. They'll want to believe, they'll try to ... but they won't be completely, entirely, wholly convinced. People like proof, you know? They're stupid ... and smart like that." Ralphie sighed.

"I guess so," Carlos muttered, staring at the dark form of a statue in the middle of the park. "But just ... just don't give up. Okay? Something will prove you're innocent, eventually. Who knows, maybe Keesha only misplaced her dumb baseball cards. When they turn up, she'll take back everything. Like she did the time you built your Ralphiebot." Carlos chuckled.

"What did she take back?" Ralphie wasn't sure. "She didn't have faith in my plan all along. In fact, she made a bet that it wouldn't work."

"It took her a while to compliment you ... and it wasn't very willingly," Carlos remembered, still wearing a grin. "She told you that your third robot was an improvement from the second one."

"Oh, right." Ralphie looked down at the cellular that he turned over and over in his hands. "Sometimes I wish Keesha weren't so ... "

"So quick to decide anything?" Carlos finished.

"She didn't think I could make a thunderstorm either," Ralphie added somewhat sadly, "or that I was Weatherman."

"You weren't, and you couldn't really," Carlos snickered. "It took the magic school bus and Ms. Frizzle's kindness to turn you into your comic book character. You're so dramatic, Ralphie." He blurted a laugh, at which Ralphie sent him a glare. "But you know how things turned out in the end," he finished quickly.

"Yeah ... but it's always in the _end,_ man."

"Who were you texting?" Carlos asked again, badly wanting to know.

"Jimmy," Ralphie replied this time, flipping open his cellular. "He wanted to tell me about hiding Tyler Roberston's wallet during second period tomorrow. Jimmy knows how to open a locker door, and Robertson always brings his wallet to school like nobody's gonna take it. It's stupid, so we're teaching him a lesson."

"Stealing?" Carlos looked concerned. "Who's gonna believe you after you do that, Ralphie? And Tyler's a good guy-when's he ever done anything mean to you?"

"He hasn't," Ralphie laughed, looking a bit uncomfortable. "It wasn't my idea. If you were anyone else, Carlos, I'd be mad at you for disapproving. About the stealing ... it's not stealing. We only ... we were only gonna give him a slight scare and then return it."

"Well, buddy, do what you have to do," Carlos shrugged, getting to his feet. He looked at his wristwatch. "I gotta go. See-ya sometime this weekend."

"Can't miss me," Ralphie smiled, as they did the fist pound. "I'll be around with the other gangsters."

"Right."

Carlos didn't show his look of complete disapproval. He really didn't want to risk upsetting Ralphie. A gentle rebuke was all his friend could handle, and it was his decision what he did anyway. But Carlos waved before he went away, glad that he was on good terms with his buddy. There had been a time when he had slightly doubted him, right after it happened-but he hadn't been able to think rationally. Keesha was his friend too. But he remembered again that she was a little quick to jump to conclusions-especially when everything obviously pointed back at Ralphie.

_Oh, come on. A lot of things could have happened, _Carlos thought as he carried his soccer ball under one arm and crossed the dark street. _It's just that Keesha's kind of eager to blame Ralphie for making a mess of things like always. Risky to have a friend like that ... when you're a Ralphie._


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello! :) I don't remember William's age, and I don't have any access to finding out at the moment ... so if the way he acts doesn't make sense sometimes, then please forgive me. Read and please review if you like it! :)**

Cha. 16 The New Plan ... A Better One

Dirty dishes were strewn on the kitchen counter, and there was a puddle of milk right at the door of the refrigerator. William was slip-sliding through it, spraying drops of milk on the kitchen wallpaper while he made loud noises that represented some kind of car. Wanda groaned and looked toward her mother's open bedroom door where her mom was talking on the phone as usual. She wiped her hands on her jeans which were spattered with dark spots where William's spraying milk had hit them.

It was another hectic evening. Her mom would end the phonecall and drop into bed without another word except to tell Wanda to leave all the work she hadn't finished for tomorrow and order William to bed. And he, as usual, would be stubborn and make a fuss about it until her mom got so impatient and tired that she'd simply order Wanda to haul him upstairs and be done with it.

"Will!" Wanda shouted, sprinting across the dirty kitchen tiles to grab his flailing arm. "Stop. Sliding. Through. The. Milk."

William giggled and tugged to get free, but Wanda gripped his arm firmly. "Mom's got enough things to worry about besides getting new wallpaper," she scolded her little brother savagely. "Now you either wipe up the mess you made or go upstairs and get ready for bed. Choice is yours."

William reluctantly moved up the stairs while Wanda got down on her hands and knees and started scrubbing the tiles wearily. _I bet none of my friends have to work this hard all the time, _she thought with a sigh. _It would be different if Mom were at home with us kids, and-and DAD was working out instead of deserting us for Asia all the time!_

She thought about her father, who had never replied to the false-alarm email, and after one phone call, hadn't contacted them again even to let his daughter know he forgave her. She guessed he was still mad at her and unforgiving about the way she had upset him. It had only been yesterday; she needed to be understanding and patient. But under the circumstances she was, it was hard for Wanda to be any of that.

She was starting to feel angry with her dad again-angry because he should have known that she would do something crazy if he didn't play a better role as a father. He should have realized long ago that staying away from his family wasn't going to work. That his daughter needed him, and his wife and son probably too. _Any dad should know they're needed in the family, _Wanda thought bitterly, furiously scrubbing at the wallpaper. _Unless they're very selfish, which my dad obviously is!_

Hot tears stung her eyes and she took out her anger on her mother who came out of her bedroom to put the cordless phone back in its cradle. "How soon will you be done so we can have some quiet?" she asked, not coldly, but persistently just the same.

Wanda clenched her fists and dropped her soaked rag on the floor. "How soon?" she sassed. "As 'soon' as a single human can get all this stupid work done by herself! If I had some help, I'd be done a lot sooner! I know you're tired, but _Mom_, couldn't you help me out a little? And if you must know, it's your stupid job that makes you so tired and useless!"

Wanda stuck her naughty tongue back into her mouth and bit down hard on it. But the blazing insults had been released and Wanda was too startled at herself to think of a fire extinguisher at the moment.

Mrs. Li Andre stared at her daughter in surprise, then her expression melted into one of understanding. She walked over to Wanda and took her hand lovingly. "Wanda, honey, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Of course you're every bit as tired as I am, and you deserve a break. So just go on to bed and I'll finish up, okay?" She smiled sadly.

Wanda shook her head and pressed her lips firmly together.

"Why not?"

"Because we're equally tired. I'll help you, okay?" Suddenly, Wanda's eyes overflowed with tears and she sat down on a chair. "Mom, this isn't fair," she cried, spreading out her hands. "How long have we been living like this? You're always busy, William always makes trouble, and I'm always needing somebody to-to talk to!"

Mrs. Li Andre's heart ached as she watched her daughter crying. To see Wanda without her lively spirit and cheerful energy was hard. But she felt worse when she realized what Wanda desperately wanted. She sat down next to her and caressed her short black hair.

"You can talk now," she said quietly.

And Wanda did. She poured out all her feelings of resentment and abandonment, and didn't leave a single one out. Although she didn't realize it, especially since she was crying half the time, her heart was healing. Mrs. Li Andre was kind and listened silently, simply being there for her daughter. After she was finished, Wanda wiped her eyes and suddenly felt as though she had been set free from a closed up situation. She was surprised at how much good the talk had done for her, and how understanding her mother was about her wishes for her dad to come back.

"I'm scared that he'll never forgive me," Wanda sniffled, reaching for her eighth tissue. "I was thoughtless, like usual. I was enough of a weaselly wimp to not tell you about it before he called. And now he's mad at me, and I don't know how to make it right."

"I have an idea, Wanda," Mrs. Li Andre said thoughtfully, staring at the wallpaper on the kitchen wall. "Why don't you write him an e-mail? Tell him exactly how you feel about him not being here with us and how you feel about having written the e-mail to him. If he hears it from you, I'm sure it'll soften his heart. I know that despite the way he reacted, he really loves you, Wanda."

Wanda's bottom lip quivered. "I should have listened to Pheobe in the first place instead of using one of my own stupid ideas." Then she sniffled again and looked up at her mom. "Do you miss him, too?"

Mrs. Li Andre's eyes grew moist and she blinked and looked away for a moment. "Yes, dear."

"Then ... then why don't you ask him to come back, instead of sending us money all the time?" Wanda wanted to know.

Her mother sighed quietly. "I can't, Wanda. I-I know how much his job out there means to him. It hurts when ... when he doesn't have time to spend the holidays with his family, but you must know that your father isn't perfect. I'm sure he often feels like he doesn't know the right thing to do, as we often feel."

"So you love Dad ... right?"

"Love him? Wanda, your father and I are totally in love. It's just that we need the money, and your dad is working hard to provide it for us. And while he's struggling out there, I'm also supporting us with a job. I know it's hard living like this, but we do it because we want the best for you kids." She gave her daughter a loving squeeze.

"But ... but you know what I want more than money," Wanda said quietly. "I want my dad and mom to spend time with me. I want to ... I want to look back on my kid life as one that's full of happy memories of doing stuff with my ... my parents."

"I totally, completely understand that," Mrs. Li Andre said softly, tucking Wanda's black tresses behind her ear. "But as long as your dad is out there, I need to have a job out here, too. And I'm trying to do the right thing-I'm trying not to be selfish. That's why I'm not begging your father back ... because I know he tries and thinks he's doing what's right. I respect him for that."

"I guess so ... " Tiredly, Wanda laid her head against her mother's shoulder. Now that her tension was gone, she felt very, very drowsy. "I guess he's not very selfish then ... is he? He just doesn't realize how much more I need him here."

"No, honey, your father is a good man," Mrs. Li Andre said firmly. "I love him, and I know he loves us. Like I said before, you should write him an e-mail, or give him a call. It could help, you know."

"I think I'd feel best writing an e-mail," Wanda decided with a yawn, up righting herself.

"Do it tomorrow," her mom advised, also getting to her feet. "You look like you could fall asleep on your feet. We'll clean up everything first thing tomorrow morning. How's that?"

"Sure ... good-night," Wanda yawned again, trudging up the stairs. She watched her feet drag, hoping that her new plan would be the answer.

Early the next morning she woke up, feeling refreshed. The sun was just rising, but she didn't feel like staying in bed. Instead, she pulled her laptop over to herself and admired the pretty rhinestone WANDA that bounced across it. Then she unlocked it and immediately logged into her e-mailing account. From there, she clicked her dad's name and began her letter slowly.

_Dear Dad,_

_How are you doing? I woke up around six-thirty this morning and decided to write you an e-mail. How's your job in Asia? Are you having fun?_

_I'm doing fine, except for the fact that I really upset you. Dad ... I don't know if I can tell you how sorry I am. I've been mad at myself, too, for being so thoughtless. I know you're probably still mad at me, but I ... I love you, Daddy. And I don't know what got into me to write you those lies. _

_Everything in this e-mail is gonna come out just the way I feel, very unlike the other one I sent you. I feel very sad when I think about how I upset you, and very ashamed of myself. I wish I could improve in handling my quick, crazy ideas. Well, I'm trying. You know how it is with me._

_It's been so long since I last saw you or talked to you, Dad. I miss you terribly much. Remember how you would go on a roller coaster ride with me every year of my life since I turned five? The last roller coaster ride was scarier than usual. It rocked, and I wish I could ride it again! Remember how I would always scream and you would scream, too?_

_I loved it when you too me and Mom and William out for dinner at an expensive restaurant. That was always so special, and exciting, too. And you would order a completely Asian meal, while we argued about whether Asian or American food tasted better, Mom always tasted each of our meals and said they were both equally good, but Will would eat garlic bread very happily. We didn't go last year. But that's okay ... you didn't have time, and you couldn't help it._

_Mudpie is getting to be a big puppy. Soon I'll have to call him a DOG. But his floppy ears will always remind me of a puppy! Whenever I cuddle Mudpie, I think of you, Daddy. You spent so much money just to buy me the exact kind of puppy I wanted. Why did you have to spoil me like that? And now I'm wishing for more than a puppy! Something a lot bigger, and something you may not understand._

_I wish you were here with me._

_Your little, loving Wanda_

...

"Tiffany?"

The girl turned around, and the look in her eyes got cold when she saw who was standing there. "Arnold."

"Uh, listen-"

"Yeah, I know," Tiffany sassed, looking hurt despite her chilly manner. "You didn't get the back of me covered in tomato juice, and now you've come to do that. Well, sorry, Arnold, but you've got the wrong girl to miserablize!"

"That's ... not ... a ... word," Arnold stammered pitifully. He looked as though he desperately wanted to bring out a good point in what she said, and couldn't.

"I know that," Tiffany said stiffly, turning away. "Leave me alone."

Arnold was about to give in to discouragement when he felt a jab at the back of his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Tim walking away as though he hadn't done anything. But Arnold smiled and turned back to Tiffany, who was walking away. _Go and tell her, Arnold,_ he told himself strictly. _Say something before she gets the wrong idea again. Don't be a chicken._

"Tiffany, wait up!" Arnold said firmly, striding toward her. She turned around, looking startled. He quickly added, "I need to talk to you. See, I didn't do that on purpose yesterday, and yes, I know it looked exactly like I did. I have an idea who shoved me, but I won't jump to conclusions. I do know, however, that _somebody_ did. And I felt horrible about ruining your pretty sweater. I told my cousin it was ... cute." He blushed and looked down at his sneakers.

"You did?" Tiffany's tone melted and her eyes sparkled. "Aww, how ... wait a minute. You told your cousin?" Her eyes widened.

"Uh ... yeah." Arnold began to feel nervous again. What had he done wrong now?

Tiffany stepped toward him and grabbed his arm. "She hates me. She probably shoved you so you would dump it over me!"

"Well, that's right, but ... " Arnold stammered again, "you didn't see her, Tiffany! Why do you think so?"

"Oh," she smiled as she looked straight into his eyes. "I know she did. _You_ saw her, right?"

"But there's no reason for you to trust me, right after ... it seemed like ... " Arnold wished he didn't always trail off, but it couldn't be helped when he got confused.

"Yes, Arnold, there is. You're a true friend." Her tone softened. "You didn't give up. You kept trying to convince me, no matter how much I yelled at you. And I think I owe you an apology."

"Oh, it's okay," Arnold smiled. "I'm used to yelling. Janet does it all the time when she gets into trouble instead of me."

Tiffany giggled. "No, I mean ... I didn't trust you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Arnold assured her quickly, feeling awkward yet pleased. "At least we're friends again, right?"

"Yeah," Tiffany blushed slightly, fidgeting with her hair. "Better friends than ever because of all this."

Arnold wasn't exactly sure what she meant by "better friends", or what she meant by "this". But he was too relieved to have won back his friendship with Tiffany to care. It meant a lot to him ... and why, he didn't exactly know. So he put out his hand and smiled. Tiffany laughed and grabbed it, pumping it energetically. But when she drew her hand away and looked at it, she looked puzzled.

"Arnold, why do I suddenly have 'No, Janet' inked into the palm of my hand?" she demanded.

He drew back his hand and laughed sheepishly. "Oh, that ... "


End file.
